


Riddle of Steel

by EuKnowWho



Series: The House of Shimada [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Drunkenness, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Heavy Angst, Lots of Little Shits, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 96,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8676109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EuKnowWho/pseuds/EuKnowWho
Summary: Where does it begin for these men who lived by the strength of their steel?*Riddle of Steel follows Hanzo and his allies in the decade after he leaves the Shimada clan. This story also continues right after Eidolon Whispers.





	1. Riddle of Steel

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again :)
> 
> Thanks again to my beta, Evanelric, for all the screams of encouragement.

**2066 - T- 10 years to Overwatch recall**

Where does it begin?

A decade in the past or further back?

A teenaged boy, blond hair in his eyes and a blood-stained knife in his hand. He was fifteen.

A fine Japanese man, turning his back on his childhood home. He was twenty-eight.

That boy, now a man, bleeding on a forest floor. He was twenty.

That Japanese man, finding himself at a crossroads yet again. He was thirty-three. 

Where does it begin for these men who lived by the strength of their steel?

For Hanzo, it started when he looked down at his brother’s burnt and broken body, a deep notch in his sword blade. The thrill of battle had ebbed away and he felt an exhaustion that was more than mere tiredness. The heat from his dragons’ passing was still in the air, their rage palpable on his tongue. 

“Genji,” he said, his voice cracking. “My little brother.”

He stepped forward. He fell on his knees. 

Genji was not moving.

The next moments were a blur. Men from the clan came and bore him away, and Genji elsewhere. 

“Where are you taking my brother?”

There was no answers for him. Not then, and not later when he appeared before the clan elders.

Healed from his injuries, he sat in seiza like a supplicant, his hands palm up on his lap as he stared at the row of old men and women. They heaped compliments and praises upon his head, the good son that triumphed over the wasteful one. Their words fell on deaf ears. In the end, Hanzo rose and thanked them. The elders saw what they wanted to see, a stoic and obedient clan leader, one who had proven his ruthlessness, and was strong enough to lead the clan to prosperous times.

They were right. The clan prospered for the first few months. If the new kumicho was quiet, then it was to be expected. It was proper that he mourn the passing of his father and brother in such a short period of time. Afterall, he did well despite his troubles. They had backed the right brother. 

They stopped congratulating themselves when Hanzo disappeared overnight. Their concern grew when he failed to return. They checked his accounts. They were drained dry. Hanamura was scoured. He was gone, disappeared like they had trained him. 

Their fury was immense and impotent. 

Trackers and hunters were sent out. They spent a year searching Japan but the trail had gone cold. Then they looked beyond Japan’s borders.

They would find this favourite son, this impudent boy, and they would make him pay for thinking that he could abandon the clan like he had.

*

Hanzo felt there was a hole in him where a human should be. It was dark and gaping, a wound that did not bleed. The pain was immense. It was the pain of lack, the pain of emptiness, the pain of loneliness. 

The drink numbed his nights and days but even then he knew the last scion of Clan Shimada could not stay in Tokyo forever. He headed for the coast and found a fishing boat looking for workers. He traded passage for work and left his home.

He turned his back on the rising sun and travelled to the west.

Hanzo eventually landed in Busan, Korea, his skin made ruddy by the elements. His hands were roughened from unaccustomed work and while his tattoos had made his shipmates wary, the open sea had given him a brief sense of solace. The wind and the rain had for a moment filled the emptiness in him with wildness, and if the brine splashed on his face, he could pretend that he had not been shedding tears. 

Time passed without his marking. Hanzo drank, fucked and fought. His knuckles grew hard from pit fights, his heart calloused from the nameless bodies that travelled through his bed and life. He passed a store window one day and didn’t recognise the stranger staring back. 

Hanzo only realised how late it was in the year when he woke up shivering one morning, his bed empty and his blanket thin and cold. He reached for a bottle, a pack of cigarettes, anything. There was nothing. His rude little rented room was filled only with empty shells of their former selves. Bottles, cigarette packs, takeaway containers. 

Himself. 

He lay on his bed, clutched at his blanket and stared up at the bare boards of the ceiling.

Memory flowed through him.

“Genji,” he sobbed. 

That night he won the alley fight and spent all his winnings on a tiny packet of white powder.

*

Hanzo never quite understood how he survived that first winter. He remembered hunger and cold. He must have had friends or people who favoured him, faceless strangers who took pity on him. An itinerant lover who bought him a coat, or an old woman and her street food cart who took pity on this bruised young man and sold him the day’s leftovers for cheap. She stopped doing that and didn’t meet his eye once spring arrive and he shed the coat. 

It was the blue dragon that stormed around his arm. 

Marked by the dragon.

He was Shimada.

_ Yakuza. _

They knew the signs even here.

Genji.

Hanzo dropped his head into his hands. 

“My brother.”

Children’s Day, the day of Genji’s death, fast approached. 

He’d go back to pay his respects. He had to. The shards of his honour demanded it.

(Oh, how his doubts laughed at him. See how you lived all these months, like a dog and not a proud dragon of Shimada.)

Hanzo made a careful plan, as careful as he could as mired in his own despair as he was. 

He saved his winnings and for the first time in months built up his conditioning. He had lost weight and for the first time he could remember, his middle was soft with fat. He worked towards fitness and lost strength.

(He saw Genji’s face every time he closed his eyes. He hurt for drink, for a smoke, for anything to numb the memories.)

The journey back to Japan was as he had left, an anonymous entry into a fishing village. He bought dark clothes with his scant savings - he was not going to touch the overseas bank accounts where he had emptied his wealth. That money had brought ruin to his family. It was empty comfort that he had removed it from the clan’s reach.

Hanzo knew all the backroads into Hanamura. Reaching his old home was easy. Attempting to penetrate the castle’s defences was impossible.

Tears of defeat and shame stung his eyes. He was only one man and there was a small army in and around the castle. 

It could not be done.

(It would have been possible if he had been fitter, stronger, and not so drunk, his doubts tittered.)

Hanzo got as close as he could get, knelt on the wet ground of the alley and made his incense offering beside garbage cans and a dead rat.

There was no lower depths to which he could sink.

Brother killer. Degenerate. 

His back bowed under the weight of his guilt.

Tail between his legs, he slunk away. He found a boat. This time he headed to China. 

 

*****

 

It began here.

The man was dressed like any other person on the street. It was February in New York City, the chill wind demanded the heavy grey overcoat and the muffling scarf and hat. He wasn’t like everyone else, though, as much as he blended in.

This man was special. He was a predator. A wolf amongst deer. Right now he was tracking a young buck in a red coat through the snow-swept footpaths.

He had to thin the herd.

A predator dressed to blend. The man paused to buy a hot dog from a freezing merchant when the boy paused to look at a streetside knockoff stand. He watched from the corner of his eyes as the boy selected a pretty bauble and paid with crumpled notes and spare change. 

_ The buck had a girlfriend _ . All the more reason to get rid of him before it got even harder for older established males like himself to find a mate. He followed the boy, eating his hot dog as he walked, then lurked outside the Museum of Natural History as the boy waited for his date. 

She never arrived. The man observed with a sneer as the boy checked his watch for the last time and made his dejected way into Central Park, hands in his pockets. What a pathetic creature, thought the man. The world will be better without an incompetent lover. The man gripped the knife in his pocket as he tailed the boy across the road. His blond head hunched against the cold; he didn’t notice the man keeping pace. The boy was rather handsome, the man mused. It was a pity he had to die. His parents would be upset, unfortunately, but these things had to be done for the health of the herd. Resources were already slim without being wasted on young, untried bucks. The world needed men like him, men who were not afraid to take action when it was needed. The world did not need another feckless pretty boy to make things worse for him. 

The boy stayed on to well-travelled paths and seemed friendly as he greeted passersby and joggers. The man scoffed. The buck clearly had no city sense to ignore his neighbours.  He was also a sad creature of habits. The man had been following this young buck for a couple of weeks, and he kept to the same route home each time. He took the same scenic route through the park at a gentle, ambling pace. He stopped a few times. Once to check his boots, another to take a few selfies of The Lake and another to buy a hot drink from a vendor. 

That looked like a good idea and the man followed suit. He sipped his black coffee and looked up to see the boy amble off the path and into the trees. The man felt his heart stutter. This was it! This was his chance. 

He looked around and, seeing that no one was paying attention to him, hurried to the treeline where he saw the boy disappear. Entering the thicket, with its twiggy, leafless trees, he could hear the boy up ahead, crunching snow beneath his feet. He was probably finding comfort from being dumped.

The man sneered again. A member of the herd who was not aware of his surroundings deserved what he got.

He reached for his knife. An opportunity like this wasn’t going to happen again. He fumbled a little, jiggling his coffee cup and splashing some hot liquid over his glove as he attempted to pull out the too-large chef’s knife from the pocket it was wedged in. 

Knife free, he looked up. The crunch of snow still sounded up ahead, though it was getting softer as the boy moved further away. The man followed after, taking care to step in the boy’s footprints. He noted with increasing satisfaction the broken twigs and branches that the boy had left in his path. The world will soon be rid of this careless buck. 

The trees were thinning and then he was blinking in confusion as he looked out at a pristine field and the undisturbed snow that started at the treeline. The man frowned, looking back behind him where he had been careful to only step in the holes the boy had made. Maybe he came to the treeline and then backtracked to find a quieter place in the trees. The man tried that and sure enough, he found a set of footprints in the snow that led away from the ones he was following. 

The man dismissed thoughts that the boy knew he was being followed. Afterall, he was the superior predator here. He began to take care now, moving slowly to reduce all noise. He didn’t want to spook the buck- he might run, as inexperienced as he was. 

There! A flash of red in the trees. The boy’s coat, surely. It wasn’t moving in the trees, he seemed to be sitting on the ground. The man approached with meticulous silence. He was a fox in the bushes, a shadow upon the forest floor. He raised his knife and sank it right in the middle of the red coat.

The coat tore away from the evergreen bush it was draped over. The man stared dumbly at the heavy garment on his knife.

There was a soft thud behind him. He turned to see the boy straighten from his crouch. He was handsome with blond hair and brown flecked green eyes. He had been wearing a dark suit under his red coat, but over that, he was wearing a two piece rain suit made out of a clear plastic. 

The boy smiled.

“My name is Richard Avernus St. James, Junior. I would not expect a lesser predator like you to recognise the name.”

The man recoiled.  _ Lesser! _ He’ll show the brat. He shook off the red coat and raised his knife. The boy had already struck forward while he was doing that. There was a sudden pain under his arm. He watched as the boy withdrew a knife from his armpit, the shiny blade stained with the man’s blood. He felt hot, wet liquid stream down his side and his arm grew numb. He dropped the knife.

The boy made a tsking noise.

“I had hoped you would be more of a challenge.”

The man was still holding his cup of hot coffee. Panicked at this sudden turn of events, he threw it at the boy, Richard, and stumbled away, clutching at his bleeding wound. Richard avoided the hot liquid with a sigh but caught the flimsy paper cup.

“I had thought a predator with five kills to his name would be a better fighter at least.”

Richard moved, a complicated duck and twist that had the man’s good arm in a painful grip. The man cried out. Richard crunched the cup up and stuffed it in the man’s open mouth. Then he smiled gently. 

He twisted the man’s arm. The man screamed, feeling the joint in his elbow snap out. The cry was muffled around the paper cup. Richard let him go to stagger away against a tree. His eyes were wide with terror.

“I suppose an ambush predator doesn’t need much in the way of combat skills.” Richard hummed contemplatively. “Let this be a lesson to you, Cole. Every man should learn how to fight, and not just undersized boys.” He eyed Cole and sighed. “Yes, I know your name. I know everything about you. You didn’t even know my name. Pathetic.” He looked up at the sky and sighed again. “I’m afraid that I have to cut this short.” A bright grin. “It’s my birthday and Father is taking me out on a gentleman’s dinner.” 

Richard was still smiling when he stabbed the man in the throat. The spray of blood fountained up from the severed artery and splashed against the plastic rain suit. He watched as Cole Ryton’s eyes grew dull and his legs collapsed under him. The blood still streamed out until it was little more than a trickle. 

There was a crunch of snow under foot behind him. Richard half turned, smiling amiably. “Father.”

St. James the senior stopped a few feet away from his son. “Richie, did you enjoy your first solo hunt?” 

Richard sighed and stood. “No, sir. He was not the fight I thought he might be.”

“A pity. Did you learn anything from him at all?” St. James held out a black trash bag. Richard stooped to clean his silver butterfly knife in the snow before stripping off his bloodstained rain suit to dispose off into the bag. His father tucked the trash bag under his overcoat.

“Nothing that you haven’t already taught me. Think like your quarry and you will win the day.”

St. James nodded approvingly. “Excellent. Are you decent as you are? Do you need to return to your mother’s home to change?”

Richard looked down at himself and shook his head. He did snatch up his old red coat, and looked at it critically. “No blood stains but that tear is unforgivable. I will need my good coat at home.” 

“Come along then. We have time.” St. James clapped his son on the shoulder and together they left the cooling body of Cole Ryton behind them, his glassy eyes staring at the sky with a silent question of  _ why. _

 

*****

 

Jesse McCree looked at the name that appeared in his inbox. _Julia del Carmen Rodríguez,_ D. 2063. He stared blankly, feeling the numbness in his chest bloom and spread in his body. The righteous fire that had been building since he started this quest was suddenly banked into cold embers. 

“What’s this?”

Jesse jumped, too startled to close the tab. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder as Reyes leant in to view over his shoulder. “Is this a suspect?”

“Eh, naw. Nothing like that. Just a family member I was tracking is all.” Jesse tried to play it casual. He felt the weight of Reyes’ eyes on him. 

“Someone close,  _ mijo _ ?” 

Jesse squirmed his shoulder out from under Reyes’ hand. He knew it was a telling gesture, just like his stiffening body language was when he read the email. “No,  _ jefe _ . No one close. Just my mother.”

Again that heavy gaze. “Her anniversary is coming up,” said the Blackwatch commander in a casual tone. “You should take some leave to go visit her grave.”

Jesse made to protest.

“I insist.” 

“ _ Jefe _ …”

“And while we’re there, we can check on the condition of the local safe sites.”

“...We?” Jesse looked up, frowning, but Gabriel Reyes was already walking away.

*

Jesse hated this. 

He hated that his mother was dead before he could hash out their differences.

He hated that she was buried in this no-name podunk town in Texas.

And he especially hated that his boss was driving him there, as if he were some dumb kid who couldn’t be trusted to take care of his own affairs. 

Deep down, Jesse was grateful for Reyes’ company. The older man was a solid presence that McCree desperately needed right now, whether he could admit that to himself or not.

That didn’t mean that it was a pleasant drive. No, Jesse McCree was a sulky ingrate who resented this trip down. 

At least he didn’t have to waste any of his accumulated leave on this stupidity. Reyes passed the whole thing off as a business trip. This was the one thing Jesse was grateful for. It wasn’t a trip just to deal with his rotten childhood but a quick detour from work. Yeah. That he could deal with.

Jesse began to straighten from his slouch as Gabe pulled up into the cemetery driveway and parked. There wasn’t a proper parking lot. He felt his foul mood come crashing back down. Scowling, he stuck a cigarrillo in his mouth and got out of the truck. He ignored Reyes’ flat look and straightened his hat on, before reaching into the back to grab the bouquet.

He fuckin hated that he remembered that she liked pink roses.

Leaving Reyes at the truck, he stepped onto the grounds and felt his already bad temper flare.

It was a fucking cow pasture. 

They buried her in a fucking cow pasture.

Jesse stopped and took a deep breath. No. That wasn’t fair. It was donated pastureland, a county cemetery. He took another breath to clear his head and orient himself before heading to his mother’s plot. McCree had already committed the position to memory. He knew exactly where it was. He walked through the low rows of gravestones, mindful to walk around the graves out of respect. He could feel Gabe’s gaze behind him.

Then he was there. He looked down at the low headstone. Her name. Her date of birth. Her date of death. 

_ Survived by her children _

Jesse stared at that epitaph blankly. 

He double checked the name. It was the right site. Jesse bent and cleared the scrubby grass from the gravestone but there was nothing else written.

_ Children _ .

He felt set adrift. Children. He had siblings, brothers or sisters that he never knew existed.

Jesse could not quantify the depth of betrayal that he felt.

He left the bouquet of pink roses on the grave and stood. 

There were no answers here.

“Yeah. See ya later, mom.”

McCree stuck his hands in his pockets and trudged back to the truck. He passed some folks on the way, a man, his two kids, but paid them no mind, his head bowed as he walked on. 

“Jesse?”

McCree stopped at his name. He turned. 

“Jesse McCree? Are you Jesse McCree?”

The man looked Chinese but his accent was pure Texas twang. He was shorter by Jesse by about half a foot. His two children were a pair of teenagers, a girl and a boy with the girl being the older of the two by a few years.

“Yeah, the name’s McCree.” Jesse tipped his hat. “How y’all know of me?” He was dressed in his Blackwatch garb- the patch visible on his arm, Peacekeeper at his side. The other man was packing too, but he didn’t look like he was itching for a fight.

“Jesse, mind if I call you Jesse? I’m Falcon Lee Tsu, these are my children, Falcon Yin and Renegade. I was a friend of your mother…”

“And she was my mother, too.” The boy stepped, up, sticking his jaw out pugnaciously. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Jesse stared. Renegade was the spitting image of himself at fifteen. The eyes were different, the hair was darker, but the resemblance was there.

“Mine as well,” said Falcon Yin, putting a slim hand on Renegade’s elbow, drawing him back. She had her father’s looks but her mother’s height. She looked at him expectantly then said, “You can call me Yin.” She smiled, sticking her hand out. “I guess that makes me your sister.”

Jesse automatically pulled off his glove to shake the offered hand, but Renegade was there slapping his hand away from Yin. “Get away from him. You don’t know where he’s been.” 

“ _ Renegade Tsu! _ ” snapped Falcon Lee, instant fury. 

“Ren, stop being an asshole.” Yin grabbed his ear and twisted until the boy yelped.

Jesse stuck his hands back in his pockets, watching this family drama play out. He just felt tired. “Yeah. The boss and me were just passing through. Best I get back to it. See you folks later.” He moved to turn again. 

“Jesse, wait.”

“Dad, we don’t need him.”

“Ren, quit it.” The sound of light footsteps then a slim hand around his forearm. Jesse half turned. “Wait, stop. Can you please wait, we want to talk.” McCree looked at the fair hand on him. He could shake her off effortlessly. Instead he sighed and turned fully. 

“Yeah?”

“Okay, look, I can tell we were a surprise to you. Dad knew about you for a long time, but Ren and me, we only heard about you when mom was calling for you on her deathbed.”

Jesse felt the world drop out from under his feet a little bit more.

Lee approached, his arm around Ren’s neck. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time, but it was like you dropped off the earth.” His eyes dropped to the patch on Jesse’s shoulder. “Now I see why.” Then he looked beyond Jesse. “Gabriel Reyes, as I live and breathe.”

Gabe’s heavy hand clapped on Jesse’s shoulder. “Falcon Lee. Still alive, I see.” 

“The hell is this, boss?”

Jesse’s fine instincts sensed a trap. It had been an overwhelming trip.

“Nothing organised,  _ mijo _ .” He gave Jesse a meaningful look. “I knew Falcon back when he used to be a bounty hunter. He retired to raise his daughter.” Reyes nodded at Yin. “Didn’t know you were related to his kids until just now.”

Jesse wanted to believe him but that would be admitting that the universe just made him into some sort of cosmic fool. “Yeah, sure.” He wasn’t some naive kid. “I’ll go wait by the truck while you finish catching up here.” He turned on his heel again.

“Goddamnit, Jesse.”

“Oh my god.” Yin came running after him again. “Wait, wait!” She plucked at his sleeve again. “You’re just like Ren only bigger. C’mon, stop.”

“Let him go, Yin,” he heard Renegade yell. “He’s a coward, we don’t need him!” The boy was shushed once more.

“What do you want,” Jesse said, warily, stopping to at looking at Yin. He ignored Ren. He had said worse things at that age. 

“I want to get to know you.” She pulled out a notepad and pen, scribbling down something and tearing the page out. “Here, my email and number. You don’t have to, like, contact me or anything. Just don’t lose it, okay?” Yin tucked the slip into his hand and smiled shyly. “I always wanted to meet you as soon as I found out.”

Jesse tucked the slip of paper away without looking at it. “Yeah. Sorry to be a disappointment.”

Yin gave him a flat look. “Don’t be a doof. Write me.” She spun on her heel, her long flowing hair flicking out like a black waterfall, and rejoined her brother and father.

Reyes caught up and smacked him on the back of the head. “ _ Pendejo! _ ” 

“Cut it out, boss. Not in the mood. Let’s just go.”

Jesse ignored the stink eye that Reyes threw at him and brooded all the way back to Dallas.

 

*****

 

**2076 - Current day - mid October.**

The airship lifted off, sticking close to the water’s surface before attaining altitude. Hanzo guided a woozy Ana to a seat then went to help Genji unload Adrian from his back. The lanky blond man looked liked he had had better days, but his spirits were still high and he was cracking jokes with McCree to distract Hana. The young MEKA pilot was trapped in her drone and McCree and Morrison were working with a hydraulic rescue tool to pry her leg free. 

Adrian was hanging upside down over Genji’s shoulder, his old wakizashi still wedged in his leg, trapped in the bone. He grinned at Hanzo and winked.

“Hey, Cabbage!”

Hana made a moue. “Stop calling me that.”

Hanzo and Genji were careful not to jostle that injured leg but Adrian also had both shoulders and his hand wounded. Hanzo’s student didn’t make a sound but his clothes were soaked with blood and sweat. The brothers Shimada settled him as carefully as possible on a seat as Adrian cradled his mangled hand close to his chest. Adrian’s discoloured and splayed fingers were painful to look at. He exhaled softly then grinned. Hanzo didn’t trust the grin nor the pallor underneath it. 

“Hana,  _ mon petit chou. _ You know what kabedon is, right?”

Hana blew her lips in a rude noise. “What do you take me for?”

“So if Hanzo were a crime lord and he were to slam his hand on the wall beside St. McCree’s head, would he be a Don Kabedon?”

Hana snorted. Hanzo sighed deeply. Genji chuckled.

“If McCree were to return the favour, would that be a  _ cowboy- _ don?”

“Oppa, stop.” Hana giggled weakly.

“If a pink videogame character were to try that, would that be a  _ Kirby _ -don?”

“Adrian, please stop before someone hurts you,” Hanzo warned. Like  _ him _ .

Genji, the traitor, piped up. “If a cow were to do it, I am sure that would be a  _ kobe _ -don.”

There were snickers all around from the younger set. Hanzo shrugged at a bemused looking Ana, and looked up at the ceiling of the airship for heavenly assistance. It was forthcoming in the side of the MEKA tearing loose and freeing Hana’s leg. Jesse extracted the slight young woman from the front of the MEKA rather than the back, but his careful handling still resulted in a soft cry. 

“Sorry, hon. Let’s get you somewhere comfortable.” The big cowboy carried her bodily and sat her beside Ana. They arranged her so she was lying on the padded seats, and examined her leg. 

Hanzo, sitting beside Adrian, looked at McCree’s broad back, and smiled. He looked good despite the battle earlier. Hanzo, on the other hand, had been wearing the same clothes for a week. His dress shirt and suit pants were stained from wear. He sighed, letting his head rest against the headrest. It was a trying few days. He watched as Morrison stalked past, his visor dangling from his fingers, and into the cockpit where Lena piloted.

“Adrian. Put yourself under. We need to remove that sword from your leg.”

A long moment of silence. “I can’t. I’ve been trying. I can’t bring my heartrate down.” 

Hanzo opened his eyes to look at his student. On his other side, he could see Genji looking on with a curious tilt to his head. 

“Are you panicking?” Softly said.

A curt nod and equally soft reply. “I am, a little. I’m among strangers, I’m injured and that last month in the Amazon was harrowing. The adrenaline’s wearing off.” His eyes looked bloodshot and he was having trouble holding onto the smile he used as a mask. “The good news is my cochlear implant works again.” 

“You know what I’m going to ask.”

Adrian closed his eyes. “Please don’t. I can’t go back to that.”

“I can help you this time.”

“You cannot just keep on dropping things for me. You have a life now.”

Hanzo frowned, sternly. “Did you not drop your business for me?”

“But that is different. You were in trouble because of me”

“Did you know that?”

Adrian took a break and slowly let it go, shaking his head. “No.”

“Half a dose of painkillers.”

Adrian began to shake his head.

“Half a dose or you find a way to bring your heartrate down.”

His student closed his eyes, licking his dry lips. “Could I have some water? I’ll think of something. That is not terrible puns.” A smile that was a little more genuine. “Perhaps...a smoke and a drink.”

Hanzo smiled in turn. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Another sigh. Hanzo left Genji and Adrian alone for a moment and came back to them muttering softly. He eyed this new development with caution. While he was relieved that Genji was getting over that infantile jealousy, an alliance between Genji and Adrian did not bode well. Hanzo’s only consolation was that Adrian was very likely to be immobile for at least a couple of weeks. 

Uncapping the bottle of water, he held it to Adrian’s lips. He drained it and looked disturbed. “I was thirstier than I thought.”

Genji looked at him. Hanzo didn’t trust that tilt of his head. “You should go sit with McCree. I will monitor Adrian.” 

“What are the two of you up to?”

“Me?” Adrian said.

“Me?” Genji said.

Hanzo had deep misgivings. 

“Brother, we’re in midair, what mischief can we manage?”

Hanzo stared at his brother and his student, his imagination going into overdrive. 

“Sensei, I’m not going to do anything that puts my heartrate up. I want this thing out.”

“Hnn.” 

Hanzo spun on his heel and stood beside Jesse. The cowboy smiled at him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Heya, darlin’. Don’t think I greeted you proper yet.”

There was an answering grunt then a huff as a kiss was pressed to his temple. “It was hectic.” Hanzo tried not to smile and failed. He leaned into Jesse’s bulk, forgetting his worries for a moment.

Then Adrian started signing.

_ “ _ _ Des yeux qui font baisser les miens” _

Hanzo stiffened, recognising  _ La Vie En Rose  _ and knowing Adrian had chosen it on purpose. “The  _ brat _ .”

_ “Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche” _

“Oh my,” said Ana, charmed. “He has a lovely voice.”

_ “Voilà le portrait sans retouche _

_ De l’homme auquel j’appartiens” _

Adrian winked at her and sang the rest of the absurdly romantic song. 

Hanzo found himself swaying with Jesse. He sighed, giving in to the mood.

“I missed you,” he murmured. 

“Yeah, I missed you too. I was mighty worried... especially so since Adrian kept dancing around us.”

Hanzo snorted lightly. “I don’t doubt it. He gets paranoid when working on his own.”

“On his own? He had us.” 

“Whom he didn’t know enough to trust and who knew him enough to trust him, yes?” McCree’s silence said enough. “I know my student.” He looked down at a drowsy Hana, her head in Ana’s lap. “Broken leg?” 

“Yeah, we’re making her comfortable for now. Adrian?”

“Once his heartrate goes to a resting rate, he’ll hypnotise himself so we can remove the sword.”

“Huh. That’s a neat trick.”

Hanzo grumbled. “It is useful at times. He tells me it’s no different to programming a computer and then executing preset commands. I don’t trust it... especially as I don’t trust the programmer.”

“It’s a bit over my head, gotta admit.”

Hanzo looked up at him, unamused. Jesse smiled and nuzzled his nose. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed.” Hanzo ignored how warm his face got. 

Adrian finished the song then sat still, his eyes closing. Hanzo didn’t like how pale he was getting. Genji had a finger to the pulse in Adrian’s throat then nodded at Hanzo. 

Hanzo left McCree’s side to kneel in front of his student. 

“Adrian, in five snaps, I need you to drop deep beneath your conscious mind. Stay under for two days.” He held his hand out and Adrian nodded. Hanzo snapped his fingers five times. At the fifth count, Adrian’s eyes glazed over and his head lolled forward.

Working quickly, Hanzo, gestured to Jesse and Genji to lay Adrian on the cold metal floor and instructed them to hold his leg as still as possible. Hanzo grasped the hilt of the wakizashi with both hands, placing his foot near where the blade was in Adrian’s leg, and pulled. The sword was wedged tightly in Adrian’s femur. He strained and grunted, pulling with all his strength. It budged only little. Morrison came out from the cockpit and after a short discussion, Hanzo bent to help brace the leg and Jack pulled. “Try not to break his leg.”

“Like he can walk on that leg as it is,” said Genji.

“That’s not it. He’ll be unbearable if he has to take longer than a couple weeks to recover.”

Jesse snorted. 

“Alright, on three,” said Jack. “One, two, three.” He pulled with his enhanced strength. The sword came loose with a rough scraping sound and the wound started to bleed again. Genji used Adrian’s knife to cut the trouser leg off and pulled a necktie from Adrian’s back pocket to tourniquet the leg. 

Hanzo looked at the length of ornamental fabric, recognising the electric blue dragons on the black background. “That... I have been looking for that tie for years.”

“Yes, Adrian is a very brave man. He rescued you from your own terrible taste.” Genji gave the impression he was beaming from behind his mask. “You should thank him later.”

Hanzo stared, defeated, and felt a headache coming on.

Ana dressed the wound and when she was done, they lifted the blond man to lie on the seats. Hanzo collapsed into the seat close to him with Jesse sitting beside him. He sighed and leaned against the bigger man, muttering an apology for his unwashed state. Jesse didn’t seem to give any indication that he cared as he pulled him flush against his side. 

Hanzo sighed and closed his eyes. “I also apologise in advance for my horrible little family.”

Jesse only chuckled.

 

*****

 

**2066**

**Some dive bar - Dallas**

Jesse disappeared into the streets as soon as Reyes dismissed him. He wandered aimlessly until he found a dingy dive. He settled himself at the bar and ordered a shot from the indifferent bartender. Then another. Feeling the pleasant buzz of alcohol, he ordered a finger of whiskey on the rocks. He nursed his drink, staring at nothing in particular. 

It was easier than thinking about the family his mother had when she abandoned him and his da. 

Exhaling heavily, Jesse rubbed his face. He pulled out the slip of paper Yin had given him. It was, as she said, her email and phone number. He rubbed his face again. He wanted to crumple the note and toss it away. He wanted to forget that this day ever happened.

Jesse patted himself down for a cigarillo, found one, and started to chew on the end. The slip of paper on the bar stared up at him. 

Yin had dotted her ‘i’s with little stars. 

Yeah, okay. That was cute. 

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original kabe-don pun comes from my friend Talen Lee of @talen_lee on Twitter. He's punster extraordinaire, fine writer, excellent maker of games and all 'round brilliant human.
> 
>  
> 
> A note on dates: I was careless on the time of year in EW. Picking a season at random, I chose summer, so EW was set in June. However, Genji's anniversary is on Children's Day, 5th May, which doesn't give much room for Hanzo to settle in OW. I've hence moved the present date to October 2076. 
> 
> I should make the corrections in EW...


	2. Hunters and Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo wanders ever West but cannot escape his pursuers.
> 
> Now sixteen, Richard is set a dangerous task by his father.
> 
> 2076, in Gibraltar, Hanzo reunites with Jesse and Adrian awakens after surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad people are so excited for the continuation of this series : )
> 
> Many thanks to evanelric, my beta and second set of eyes.

**2067 - Southern China**

Hanzo made his way west. West, further west. Away from the rising sun and away from the shores of his homeland. The disaster that was his visit to pay his respects to Genji ate at him, was a gnawing thorn in his soul. It festered and rotted, driving him further and further away from the shores of his birth. 

The assassins caught up with him when he was in China. There were three of them and he knew them all by name and they were all his cousins. He spilled Shimada blood like a bad habit. Naoko, who had braided flowers in his hair when they were children and who had once pushed him into the koi pond. Naoko who almost carelessly shoved her newborn infant into his arms, trusting in his keen reflexes to keep her child safe. 

Naoko whose head rolled, severed from her body by her own  _ kama _ , eyes staring glassily at the overcast sky. 

Hanzo didn’t have time for a sob, if there were tears left in his body. The twins Hamacho Aito and Akio were next. They were deadly, swift, in better condition than he was. They cut and stabbed, spilling his life’s blood onto cold cobbles. 

They did not have dragons.

Hanzo fell to his knees, seeing images of a warm, living Aito, laughing at some joke as they sat at the  _ izakaya _ . He saw Akio as he worked on his car, clever hands coaxing miracles from stubborn metal. 

He saw them alive, then he saw them as burnt husks at his feet. The dragons were as merciless as ever as they roared into the night. 

Akio’s bow in his hands.

Hanzo had no more tears. He only had memories. Ghosts that would rise to chase his dreams.

He fled again, fleeing ever West. 

*

One night he woke, heart racing. He dreamt Akio had been there with his keen eyes and clever hands. 

Those keen eyes that burned and those clever hands that wrapped around his throat. He whispered into Hanzo’s ear truths that sank into his skin with a thorny grip. 

_ Naoko’s daughter will be raised without her mother. _

_ My parents expect their twin sons home. They will never see us again. Their hearts break without bodies to mourn.  _

_ You have destroyed us. _

_ Kinslayer. _

_ Traitor. _

Hanzo woke, his heart beating like horses’ hooves, loud in his ears. A cold sweat covered his body, and his hands shook. 

Outside, the winds whispered  _ traitor _ in the rustling of leaves. The song of crickets hissed  _ kinslayer _ . The croaking cry of frogs said  _ destroyer _ .

He packed and moved on, ghosts in his footsteps.

*

Shimada Hanzo knew he was cursed. He carried the bow of a dead man. The string sang Akio’s name each time he let fly an arrow. The bow knew its master and hated his murderer. The string always scraped Hanzo’s fingertips, burned across his bare forearm, no matter how often he changed the string. He felt the weapon’s hate each time he picked it up and wrested it to his will. 

He had fallen back to killing to pave his way. Once a killer, always a killer. Spilling the blood of strangers was nothing when he had destroyed family. 

The numb hole in him only grew larger with each death.

Hanzo didn’t notice, and didn’t care. His body was a travesty. He worked on that.

Then May approached, like a cloud over the horizon. May was an unforgiving presence, large and looming. 

It didn’t matter. As he sat on the wharfs of Xiamen and looked out towards the sea, he felt a deep longing to see his home again. He wanted to see the cherry blossoms in spring, feel them feather across his face. He wanted to see his home on the hill, to walk the halls of his ancestors.

Tears fell unbidden, rolling down his cheeks.

He wanted to pay his respects to his fallen brother. 

Memory of his previous attempt filled Hanzo with shame. He looked down at his hands, at the bottle of mijiu he had been drinking from. It was a terrible, cheap drink, sour on the tongue. Genji would have loved it. 

Hanzo stood. He would go and pay his respects to his brother again. 

He had to.

His honour demanded it.

*

There were shouts behind him.

Hanzo clutched his bleeding side, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

He had been close. So close. He had touched the wall of his home for the first time in two years.

It was the most at peace he had been in years. 

A rough shout nearby cut his meditations short. 

Soon other voices joined the harsh chorus.

And then there was silence and sharp knives in the dark.

Hanzo gave as good as he got. He spilt the blood of his kin and family again and again until he lost them in the warrens of Hanamura. He collapsed to the ground in an alley, closing his eyes, letting the shame of his defeat wash over him.

A traitorous sob escaped his lips.

Nonsense. He didn’t have time for this.

Hanzo opened his eyes and rose unsteadily to his feet. 

He’d be back next year.

 

*****

 

**2067 - New York**

“I have a challenge for you, son.” 

Richard was sitting across from his father, his back to the driver. The elder Richard was seated comfortably in the back seat of the limo, having just picked up his son from his prestigious school to bring home for the weekend. He had his tablet in hand and was idly scrolling through the stock market. 

“Sir? I do appreciate a challenge.” Richard was under no illusion that his father had requested his presence out of want for his company. He’d be staying with his mother, as always, though their penthouses were within blocks of each other.

“Good.” St. James looked pleased. “How would you feel about taking care of a pest?”

“I would be glad to do so, sir. Who is this pest?”

St. James made a tsking sound. “A worm who thinks he’s a tiger. A member of the Triad who thinks he can encroach on my territory without my permission.”

Richard frowned, turning his full attention to his father. This was unforgivable. All the world knew that New York and the Five Boroughs belonged to Richard St. James. 

“Naturally, I cannot show my hand. However, I do recall that you wanted a challenge.”

Richard smiled. “Of course I do.” Then his smile faded. “I will need help,” he added unwillingly. 

“Son, the goal is for you to succeed by any means possible. If you need assistance, then choose your henchman wisely.”

“Choose, sir? You have potential partners for me in mind?”

St. James gave his son a gentle smile. “‘Partner’ indicates that they are your equal. Find one that you can work with. I have sent you their dossiers.” He tapped something on his tablet.

Richard’s phone chimed, a carefully chosen melody from a movie popular with his age group. St. James gave a little sigh, and Richard murmured an apology. He opened the files and gave each one a brief read. Then he murmured another apology, this time for his distracted nature, as he gave each file a more thorough once over. St. James accepted the apology with grace and went back to checking on his portfolios. They spent the rest of the trip in silence.

*

The offerings were sparse. Richard lay on his bed, frowning at the dossiers. They were all  _ unsatisfactory _ . 

Was his father setting him up for failure?

To a man, they were all career criminals, and from their rap sheets, not particularly successful ones. The other point of commonality that they had was that they were all currently out of jail and available for hire.

Richard frowned. Or perhaps the test was whether he could make these failures work to his bidding. 

Or the test was whether he had the agility of mind to realise the trap he would be creating for himself if he chose an individual from his father’s selections. 

Richard was not under the delusion that the test was to merely succeed as his father had said. A proper heir to the Gentleman of New York must  _ excel. _

No, he would not choose from his father’s list. He’d find help on his own, or complete the mission solo.

Richard’s stomach growled. He sighed. For now, he was sixteen and needed a pizza pocket. 

*

It was early enough in the evening that a kid his age could wander around Chinatown without raising a brow. Richard was wearing perfectly average skater gear; cargo pants, a graphic tee, a backpack with his hoodie carelessly sticking out, and headphones over his ears. The clothes were good, if a little torn in places, and even his sneakers were well worn. A Yankees cap and a temporary hair dye in an absurd (but pretty) blue topped the outfit. Dressed like he was, even a white kid like him wouldn’t stick out too much in this neighbourhood. Richard glided down on his skateboard, looking for all the world like a normal teenager. 

He was even eating a slice of pizza, the hot pocket from earlier having had zero impact on his growing metabolism, chewing carelessly on his slice.

His target was one Freddy Moh, recently of Hong Kong. He had arrived in the States six months ago and was steadily moving up the Red Daggers, the local Triad clan. Scuttlebutt had it that he had an eye on the top job. What brought him to the attention of the Gentleman of New York was that Mr. Moh refused to seek out the blessing of St. James for this endeavour.

The Gentleman could not have anyone who would not respect his authority working in New York’s underworld.

The Gentleman would like an example made. 

Right now, Richard was casually making his way to the restaurant where Moh conducted his business. Richard had a few ideas on how to remove Moh, but none of those ideas involved actually going guns blazing into his place of work. No, what he needed were schedules, routes, places of frequent visitation. Hell, if he could get Moh’s favourite dish, he could even do something with that information. 

Richard had a careful plan where he would enter the  _ Golden Palace _ restaurant, pair his phone with the restaurant’s line and thereby attain a backdoor into the internal network. He had planned it down to what he’d say to the waitress, and what his order was (fried rice, wonton soup, and lemon chicken). Later, he would plant bugs on Moh’s car. 

It was a solid plan.

No plan survives first contact with the enemy.

When Richard closed on the restaurant, he found he had to roll to a stop and pick up his board. A crowd gathered around two Triad thugs. They were blocking the doorway, preventing regular customers from going in or coming out, and the gathered onlookers had made it nearly impossible to pass through to the other side. Families turned the other way at the sign of trouble, leaving feckless youths like himself to rubberneck over each other. Phones were out, recording for prosterity.  _ Remember when cousin Chou got himself beat up by Triad? _

That’s when Richard realised that the Triad goons were beating up a kid. He frowned at the slight figure in the circle as he inched around the crowd.  _ You aren’t a hero, Richard. Stick to the plan. Head to the garage now while they’re distracted. _

He heard the thud of a boot into a gut. Richard frowned.

“What’s the use of being a prince if you can’t protect people,” he murmured. Richard elbowed his way through the circle just in time to see the heavier set of the two Triad pull his pistol from his jacket. 

The crowd jerked back. 

Richard jerked forward. 

He swung his skateboard out, smashing the blunt edge against the man’s gun hand. 

His skateboard was solid steel. The edge was a nice six millimeters thick. 

The crunch was satisfying.

Richard was grinning. 

The gunman was surprised. Which was fair. No one expected to be attacked by a skateboard. His expression changed as he looked shocked. He was screaming in the next heartbeat as the pain caught up to his brain. He dropped his gun and clutched his hand, eyes wide and streaming as he stared at the crushed fingers. Richard was already spinning around, his board out as a makeshift shield, but the other Triad enforcer was on the ground, his arm twisted behind him. Richard saw their victim for the first time. 

Ah.

He wasn’t a boy, just a short man. He gave Richard an adrenaline-fueled look of apprehension as he twisted the enforcer’s arm to a crunch and a scream.

Richard laughed. “Nicely done! But now we have to run!” He grabbed the short man by the arm and pulled him through the slackjawed crowd. His longer legs propelled them through the streets but the stranger was very fit and kept up easily. Richard could feel the dense, wiry muscle under his hand. There were shouts behind them.

There was still lots of foot traffic. Richard pulled out a thick stack of ones that he carried around for this purpose and tossed them up in the air. There was an instant scramble and a distracted crowd. Richard flung the strange man at a nearby fire escape and pointed up.

“Climb!”

Richard didn’t have time to blink but the short man climbed like a monkey. And Richard thought that  _ he _ was a pretty agile climber. The short man got to the top in half the time it took Richard to climb. He waited, eyeing Richard warily. 

_ Two cats who meet in an alley and have not yet decided to attach each other, _ thought Richard.

“Hi,” he said, light and airily. “I’m Richie. We should get off this roof and out of this neighbourhood.”

“How old are you?” The short man looked Chinese, and was about five inches shorter than Richard. His accent was perhaps Vietnamese, but also sounded like he had obviously been educated Stateside.

“No, no, that’s not what you say. You’re meant to say ‘how are you?’ To which I reply, ‘Fine, thank you.’” Richard grinned. 

Something bright and slim whipped out and a sharp point was pressed against his throat. 

Richard’s grin widened, keeping his hand and skateboard at his sides. “I’m old enough at sixteen. We should go, Moh’s men will wise up.”

Something unfathomable flittered across the shorter man’s face. “I am Matthew Hou.” He lowered his blade, a short, slim thing that fit under his shirt. Richard had to get something like that. “Richie who?”

“Do we have time for this?”

Hou’s dark eyes narrowed. 

“Fine. Richie St. James.”

“Richard St. James,” Hou corrected. “I have seen the Gentleman from afar. You are not him.”

“Junior,” Richard amended. 

Hou was silent, dark eyes disturbed.

The fire escape they had climbed up began to clatter with use.

“Let’s get going! We can discuss things on the way outta here.”

Richard led the way, clambering down a fire escape on the opposite end of the building then heading for the nearest subway station. He handed Hou his cap and pulled his hoodie out, tugging the hood over his head to hide the blue dye job. He kept his board in his hands and out in the open, only slightly hiding it with his body. 

“So… you wanted a word with Freddy Moh?”

“I wanted to kill him.”

Richard laughed. This evening was getting better and better. 

Hou shot him a sharp look. “What has Moh done to you?”

Richard shrugged. “Nothing. Father just wants him made an example of.”

Hou was silent for a while. “How can you be a cold-blooded killer at your age?”

“Is it so bad a thing to be a prime predator before I’m eighteen?” Richard didn’t wait for Hou to answer. “Hop on the subway with me. I’ll buy you a slice and we can talk business.”

They travelled in silence then hopped off near Central Park. They talked softly over slices of pizza (Richard cursed his metabolism but inhaled pepperoni and cheese like it was air). Richard was delighted by Hou’s decided unease with his own casual approach to violence. 

Regardless, they agreed to work together.

Freddy Moh was dead by Sunday evening.

 

*****

 

**2067 - Classified**

Genji woke in the dark. 

It was not the first time this had happened, but it was no less frightening each time. He could feel his flesh heart pound as panic entered his bloodstream (such little as was left).

He couldn’t help himself. Genji began to thrash and arch. He needed to get away, he needed to be free. His limbs were restrained, held down to the hard surface beneath him. 

Genji was vaguely aware that he was crying and babbling. He heard voices but didn’t heed them. 

He just needed to be free.

Suddenly, light. Air that hit his skin. A kind face with a golden halo of hair, his mask lifting away.

Genji stilled, his breath coming in with a shuddering gasp. His restraints were removed and he sat up. 

Dr. Ziegler wiped his face then sat beside him. 

Genji felt like a monster. 

His shame was immediately replaced with a burning anger. 

His brother made him this way. The Shimada were at fault. They will pay.

Genji turned his head to the doctor. “My orders have arrived?” His accent sounded heavy to his ears (audio receptors).

Angela nodded. “Yes. Whenever you are ready. Commanders Morrison and Reyes are waiting for you in my office.”

“I am ready now.” He held his hand out for his mask. Mercy placed it in his hands and he snapped it back on. He left her side without another word.

 

*****

 

**2076 - Watchpoint: Gibraltar**

Hanzo let the hot spray of the shower run over his tired body. He sighed, feeling the heat sink into the muscles of his shoulders and back. Placing his hands flat on the shower wall, he bent his head and let the hot water soak his hair. Just for a moment. Just one moment where he could ignore his cares. Ignore that two of his friends were in the medbay, that the mission to rescue him had turned into a debacle. 

That he had to talk to Adrian’s mother.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Hey there, sugar. Need a hand with that?” 

A grunt. “I will hit you if you just toss your arm in here.”

Jesse laughed and took that as invitation. The gunslinger was already naked. He slipped into the shower behind Hanzo, taking the bar of soap into his flesh hand. Hanzo shifted a little, making room for his lover, welcoming his bulk in the small space. He felt the rough brush of McCree’s beard against his shoulder followed by a soft kiss.

“You look troubled, sugar. Good thing you got me to help with that.” His metal hand traced lightly over Hanzo’s hip, edging lower. 

Hanzo chuckled, leaning back against Jesse’s chest. “Hmmm, but perhaps not in the shower. I feel too old to be romanced standing up.”

“Well, now. I’m sure we can figure something out.” His hand traced upwards, lightly brushing over Hanzo’s ribs then left his body to build up a lather. Hanzo sighed again as McCree soaped his shoulders and arms.

“You spoil me.”

“Darlin’, you deserve spoilin’.”

“You must be tired too.”

“Hmm, might be that I am, but not as exhausted as you. Now, hush, sugar. Let me do the work for you.”

McCree washed the lather from his neck and shoulders so he could press wet kisses there. His hands were busy soaping up Hanzo’s chest, passing over his firm pecs and ghosting over his nipples. The archer chuckled then sighed, arching his back against Jesse. Hanzo tilted his head back, his eyes closed. He was almost boneless from McCree’s attentions. The cowboy’s strong hands were almost addictive. Hanzo could tell that Jesse was enjoying this as much as he was. If Hanzo angled his hips just right…

An answering moan from the gunslinger as the archer neatly slotted the crack of his ass against Jesse’s generously sized cock. Hanzo chuckled, rocking his hips back, enjoying the feel of the hard length sandwiched by his ass. Jesse’s breath caught and he groaned again. “I missed you, sugar.” Dropping the bar of soap, he wrapped his fingers around Hanzo’s cock, pumping lightly.  

They came like that, standing in the shower. Their moans grew and deepened, mingling together into a symphony of lazy, familiar lust. They kept a slow pace, slowly rocking against each other, building to a rising crescendo in their bodies, a keening sultry call that beckoned to both men. Their arms were around each other, delighting in the feel and strength of their lover’s body. 

Hanzo came first, with Jesse’s hands on his cock and balls. He gasped Jesse’s name, jerking his hips back and felt the warm spurt of Jesse’s cum on his back. They leaned against each other, panting. Jesse laughed warmly against his soaked hair. 

“Good thing we’re in the shower, huh, darlin’?”

Hanzo answered with an amused laugh, enjoying the tingles of satisfaction that ran though his body. “Rinse my back? I think I’m ready for bed.”

“Oh, honey, I couldn’t get it up again.” Jesse groaned regretfully.

“Idiot.” Hanzo swatted the gunslinger affectionately. “I meant to sleep.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good one.” Jesse wiped his semen from Hanzo’s skin and Hanzo turned off the water. They dried off and collapsed onto Hanzo’s narrow but well-sprung mattress. Jesse pulled the blankets over the both of them and they fell into an exhausted and dreamless sleep.

*

Fresher and shaved, the next morning was a busy one for Hanzo. There was the debrief with Winston and the rest of the team, a check-in with an unconscious Adrian after, and lastly, he had to make a call.

Hanzo’s phone had been destroyed when the Gentleman’s men had captured him. Winston was in the process of remotely removing the records kept on that phone, just in case, before issuing Hanzo a new Overwatch phone. In the meantime, he appropriated the use of Adrian’s cell. He got past the unlock screen easily, especially since Adrian hadn’t changed it in the months since they last met in person.

He found the contact easily in the phone’s contact list and tapped to call. It was picked up on the second ring.

“Hanzo-san. Thank you for reaching out to me so quickly.”

Hanzo hadn’t had a chance to introduce himself yet, but Dia Everard’s prescience didn’t surprise him. “Dia-san, I regret to inform you-”

“About my son? Yes, how is he?”

Talking to Adrian’s mother was always an exercise in mental agility. He had wanted to break the news of Adrian’s father first. “He has various displaced bone fractures in his right hand, a non-displaced bone fracture on his right femur, and had been shot in both shoulders, one with an arrow that hit the bone, and the other a grazed flesh wound.”

Dia was silent for a moment.

“What manner of idiocy did you stop him from performing, Hanzo-san?”

Hanzo grunted. “He was going to dishonour your wakizashi.”

Dia Everard made a tsking sound.

“There’s more, however. Your...partner,” the current status of Adrian’s parents’ relationship had never been made clear to him. “Adrian’s father… He has been dead for some time.”

He could hear the frown. “Are you sure? My Richard does not seem dead to me. Distant, yes, but not dead.”

“Adrian called him an eidolon.”

Silence.

“I eviscerated his decaying corpse with my dragons. My apologies.”

A long thoughtful silence. “I will need to think on this. Nevertheless, does Adrian need anything?”

“Yes, his clothes and gear. And his glasses and the usual vices, I suspect.”

A chuckle. “Of course. Will he be with you for long?”

“I am not sure. I will lobby that he be allowed to stay on base until he can walk, at the very least.”

Dia made a sound of contempt. “Military bases. I don’t know why you men enjoy them so much. Regardless, send me details and I will send Adrian’s necessities down to you. I am in Paris right now. I can easily raid his flat.”

“Also… We were in Marseilles.”

“Oh, that was you? It’s all over the news. They’re claiming a terrorist attack. This is going to be very expensive to cover up.”

Hanzo sighed. “Yes, especially since it was our warehouse that was attacked. It had crates with our business logo on them.”

“Ah, well, that is unfortunate.” She sounded amused. “But nothing that your lawyer can’t work around.”

“I believe that Quentin Whiskers is retiring soon.” Hanzo’s tone had gone bone dry as it did whenever he talked about the lawyer.

“Quentin Terrance Whiskers is a good boy and he’ll do well for us. He has done so in the past.”

“He is getting on in years.”

“Hmm. You are right. I will put feelers out for someone equally qualified. But for now… How are you, Hanzo-san?”

Another sigh. “I am well. Recovering. Your partner was a… gracious host.”

“But not a pleasant one?”

“No, madame. Not at all.”

“My apologies.”

He accepted it, for she truly sounded sincere. “Adrian will wake tomorrow evening.”

“I’ll await his call then. Thank you for looking out for him.”

“He is injured because of me. It is never a burden.”

“Nonetheless, thank you.” Hanzo could hear the smile in her voice.

They cordially ended the call.

*

Lunch was… interesting. Genji cooked. Technically it was curry chicken katsudon. The rice was soggy. The breaded chicken was burnt brown, and the curry sauce was lumpy. 

Hanzo found himself eating it still, because while the rice was a disaster, the chicken and sauce were still edible. It was a small sacrifice to encourage his brother’s efforts. However, Hanzo prayed to the merciful gods that if Genji were to find love, he would find someone who could actually cook. 

Genji beamed at his apparent enjoyment of his cooking. He didn’t even bat an eyelid when Mei peered into the cooking pot and commented that his rice porridge was too dry.

After lunch, Hanzo sighed and headed to the loading bay where the purchases for the base had arrived and were stowed away. There were beds to be set up, toilets and new shower fixtures for everybody, new couches to be carried into the common and rec rooms and new kitchen and gym equipment and gallons and gallons of paint. Jesse had come down with him and they stood together, surveying the mountain of stacked up crates.

Jesse whistled. “What say you and me do some target practice instead. We can organise a posse later.”

“That is a good idea. I need to get back into condition. I fear that I’ve put on weight.”

He was given a squeeze by an affectionate cowboy. “Still the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Nonsense.” But Hanzo ducked his head, slightly embarrassed despite the fact that they were alone. 

They didn’t quite make it to the practice range but took a detour back to Jesse’s room instead.

*

Adrian woke as scheduled. He was still and breathing shallowly one moment, and his eyes fluttered awake the next. 

They closed again with a gasp.

“I’m in bad shape, sensei.” Hanzo winced at that raw, grating voice. 

“Yes. I can tell.” Hanzo lightly touched the unmarred skin of his left arm. “This is Doctor Angela Zeigler. She would like to discuss painkiller options with you.”

Mercy stepped up, Adrian’s chart in hand. “Mr. Everard, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.” She set aside the chart and produced a pen light. Lifting one eyelid, then another, she shined the light into his eyes, checking his pupil dilation. Hanzo could see that his student was trying not to wince. She made a thoughtful hum. 

“I cannot say that I am feeling pleasure per se…” The corner of Adrian’s mouth twitched into a grimace. “My apologies, I am using what little reserves I have to contain the pain.”

“Of course. While I am full confident that you will attain full mobility within a fortnight, there is the matter of your current comfort. Hanzo has informed me that you would rather not be given opioids?”

“No,” Adrian rasped. “I had a painkiller addiction a few years back. I do not want to repeat it.”

“That is understandable, Mr. Everard. The options I can present to you are either opioids or synthetics opioids in a reduced and controlled dose.”

Adrian only sighed, a defeated slant to his mouth.

“The other option is medical marijuana. Hanzo recommends against that because he claims that you are annoying when high.” Angela sounded slightly amused.

One dirty green eye peeked at Hanzo. “I am in barely manageable agony and you are worried that I might be annoying?”

“I almost killed you the last time we got high.”

“Point.” He flicked his eye at Angela. “The medical weed, please and thank you. If Hanzo-san will kill me, I’ll be going out happy at the very least.”

Mercy shook her head and left them.

Hanzo took out Adrian’s phone. “Would you like to talk to your mother now or later?”

“Now, please. I can sense her concern.” He closed his eyes again. “Please stay?”

“Of course.” Dialing the number, Hanzo placed the device on Adrian’s chest. The call was picked up immediately. 

“Darling child.”

“Mother dearest.” Adrian swallowed. “Sensei, water?” Hanzo complied. 

“I am glad that you are conscious, darling.”

Adrian drank from the glass that Hanzo held. “I always aim to please, dear.”

“Hmm… A little weak and exhausted, darling? Never mind, we can talk tomorrow.”

“Of course, be well, mother.”

“Always.”

Hanzo placed the phone on the stand by the bed as Mercy came up with the oil and a dropper. She administered some drops on Adrian’s tongue and motioned to Hanzo to give him some water. 

“When you are feeling better, Mr. Everard, Hanzo has some food for you and you have visitors.”

“Please, it’s just Adrian.” He began to move with some slight fluidity. “We are not going to discuss my recovery?”

“There is time for that tomorrow. Would you like me to call in the rest of your visitors?”

Adrian closed his eyes for a moment then nodded. “Yes, please.” He turned to Hanzo. “Food?” he sounded hopeful. 

Hanzo presented the covered bowl. “Okayu and fried chicken. Don’t question it.”

“It’s an odd combination…?”

“I’ll explain later.” He offered a spoonful to Adrian, who ate it. 

“Well lookit! Dumbfuq is awake!” Hana came stomping in, swinging from her crutches. Genji and McCree following on her heels.

“Wow. That is rude.” 

“You’re feeding him the meal I made.” Genji sounded pleased, holding his hands out for the bowl. Hanzo narrowed his eyes but complied, watching as his brother perched on the edge of Adrian’s bed. He inexpertly fed Adrian a too large spoonful, getting porridge on his face. Adrian looked too tired to be unamused. 

Hana sat in the other visitor’s chair, propping her leg cast in front of her. She chatted about inconsequential things while Adrian nodded absently, eyes hooded. Jesse walked around the bed to stand beside Hanzo’s chair. Hanzo in turn watched as the slight stress lines on Adrian's face slowly eased away. Hanzo finally relaxed against Jesse’s side when Adrian opened his eyes fully and quirked a smile at Hana and managed a weak quip back. 

Angela came by to chase them all out ten minutes later. She rescued Adrian from Genji’s feeding and promised that he would still be there the next day. Hanzo followed Genji and Hana out, Jesse resting a hand on the small of his back. It amused Hanzo how possessive the gunslinger had gotten since his retrieval. 

“Shall we do some target practice before bed?”

“Sounds good, but if it’s all the same to you, ya wanna tell me how you and Adrian got the same cigarette burns on your arms?” 

Hanzo looked over at his lover, and laughed ruefully. It was always easy to forget that Jesse McCree had sharp eyes. “It’s nothing important. We… got bored one mission. We had too much alcohol and too many cartons of cigarettes to burn through. Adrian and I got drunk and decided to play ‘Truth or Pain’.”

McCree gave a startled laugh. “Gotta tell ya, darlin’, that wasn’t the answer I was expecting.”

“Oh?” Hanzo continued to look amused. “Were you expecting a torrid story of capture and torture?”

“A little bit, yeah.” Jesse wrapped an arm around the shorter man. 

Hanzo shook his head. “No, only the mundane truth of two unwise men.”

Jesse only chuckled.

*

Two days later, Adrian was smirking when Mercy loaded him into a wheelchair and shoved him at Hanzo. “Another minute and I will kill him.”

“ _ Mon cher _ …”

“Hush. I have a loaded gun.”

“Was that not supposed to be my line?”

Hanzo quickly wheeled his student away before Angela could make good on her threat.

“Your clothes will arrive soon, but your mother has sent gifts to the base for hosting you… and a few other essentials.” The archer pulled out a pair of glasses and dangled them in front of Adrian’s face. The younger man snatched them up and slipped them on with a sigh.. the corners of his mouth tugged upwards in a relieved and happy smile.

“Yes, this is much less exhausting. I’ve missed these. Mother is too kind and understanding, as always.”

“She also sent you a carton.”

Adrian made an interested sound. 

“I thought we could smoke and talk while Jesse finishes up breakfast.”

“All this for me? I’m touched.” Adrian was wheeled to a spot looking over the sea. He accepted the cigarette that Hanzo lit up for him, and filled his lungs with the heady smoke. His shoulders were slightly sore, but had healed nicely. Adrian looked at his splinted leg, flexed it a bit and embraced the sharp ache. His hand was still on the mend, and Adrian was not looking forward to the therapy and training needed to bring it back to its former strength and agility. All in all, not a bad price to pay for Sensei’s safety.

Speaking of which… “You’ve put on a bit of pudge.”

Adrian received a narrow look. “And you’ve lost weight.”

Damn. He didn’t have much to lose in the first place. “I did spend a month in the Amazon.”

“Hmm. Yes.” They breathed out a cloud of smoke. “About Copper Solutions…”

“I still think we should buy into them.”

Hanzo nodded, his own lit stick held loosely between his fingers. He looked out to sea. “Expensive, but yes, I agree, they will pay out in the long run. Our current finances, however..”

“I’ve mismanaged them, haven’t I?” Adrian took another breathful to disguise the downward turn of his mouth. 

The older man nodded slowly. “Yes, but not to a disastrous situation. I will take back management of our joint business accounts.”

“Of course.”

“Since you do have too much on your plate.”

Adrian chuckled. “I like being busy. It makes me bearable.”

“Yes. I think we’ll rescue Dr. Ziegler from you. We’ll put you up in my room while I bunk with McCree.”

Adrian nodded. “And when I’m a little more sharp, I think I’ll speak to whomever is running this show about getting you lot legalised. It is ridiculous how you are still operating illegally.”

Hanzo smiled. “Yes, that’ll keep you busy.” He stubbed out their cigarettes. “Jesse should be ready for us now.”

Pushed deeper into the base and into the common room, Adrian was treated to a busy sight in the kitchen. Jesse McCree was wearing an apron that said “Don’t shoot the cook” and was assisted by a floury Genji. The latter was also wearing an apron, but this one was of a busty bikini clad woman’s body. Hanzo sighed heavily above Adrian. 

“C’mon in, breakfast is ready.” 

Adrian was pushed to the table and he squinted at the large stack of pancakes that was set in front of him, a far cry from the cut fruit and granola that was his usual breakfast.

“Put on weight,” commanded his sensei. 

Adrian continued to give the plate a dubious look. Finally he looked up. “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing this correctly. Ice cream, chocolate chips and whipped cream, please. I’m an American, goddamit.” He outrageously exagerated that part of his accent.

Jesse chortled. “Man after my own heart.”

“Which is with a long knife through the stomach,” said Genji.

“I was going to say between the ribs with a long knife,” said Adrian. 

Hanzo sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose at the both of them.

 

*****

 

**2067 - Classified**

Jesse stuffed his wrapped gifts into a cardboard box and sat to pen a quick note. 

_ Sorry I can’t make it back this year. Make sure that Ren doesn’t destroy his gift. That kid’s real ornary. _

He chewed on the end of his pen, then called out. “Hey,  _ jefe _ . How d’ya spell ‘ornery’?”

“Do I look like a fucking dictionary, McCree?”

Jesse shrugged and left the spelling as is.

_ Japan is nice, but really wished I could spend Christmas with you guys. Hopefully next year. _

Yeah, that was good.

_ Your brother, Jesse. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: Richard's solid steel skateboard. I idly thought, this hardcore try-hard teen needs a weapon he can bring anywhere, something that blends in with his projected persona. I thought, what if... a steel skateboard. Is such a thing possible? [Apparently so](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=247ljlR3EGM). "Good for self defense" indeed.


	3. Monkey Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hou travels back to Vietnam to visit his family and while there, decide to pay a visit to the local Triad HQ. He finds a ragged figure and decides to rescue him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks and love to Evanelric for the beta <3

 

**2068 - NYC - February**

“Are you sure about this?”

Richard looked at him through the mirror. 

“Yes. I have never been so sure of anything in my life.” Richard fixed his tie and adjusted his cuffs, polished black metal winking at his wrists. “I will join the Association on my own terms, not my father’s.”

Hou pulled his leg up onto the bed. “I am uncomfortable with introducing you into that crowd.”

“What’s a year earlier than my father planned?” Richard raised his brows. “Henri Papillon is not an innocent.”

“I hope that I will not regret this, my friend.”

“You won’t. This benefits you as well.” 

Hou knew it did. The Association was a pit of snakes and Richard as Henri Papillon was a much needed ally. 

“We can do this, Matthew.” Richard turned. He looked too young to Hou’s eyes. He was dressed in slacks, a vest, and a shirt with a high collar. Both were in black. The waiting jacket was also black, but with the looping wings of a stylised butterfly in green trim on the shoulder and back. A half mask waited on the dresser. 

“I worry about the trials they will put you through.”

Richard smirked, with all the confidence of a teenager who has not yet failed. 

“I am not. There is nothing that I have not been prepared for, trained for.”

Hou shook his head. “I don’t think you should be that confident.”

“You succeeded in attaining membership.”

Hou shifted. “I worry, my friend.”

“It’s my age, isn’t it? Well, for all they know, Henri Papillon is in his twenties.” Richard winked, pulling his jacket on. Hou looked on with mild disgust at his tall, narrow frame, and his broad shoulders. Richard was right- he could pass for much older. He had more poise and confidence than most people in their mid-twenties - Hou’s age.

“You’ve gotten taller,” Hou grumbled. 

His friend, the teenaged assassin, sighed. “Yes. I think I’ve just gotten my last growth spurt.” Richard was now a full ten inches taller than him. 

Hou stood to help straighten Richard’s jacket. “Well,  _ Richie _ . Good luck.”

“Thank you,  _ Matty _ . It’s much appreciated.”

*

Richard succeeded, of course. Or rather, Henri Papillon did, now the newest member of the Professional Association. 

He was almost certain that his father hadn’t realised who he was. 

Almost.

Hou hoped his friend hadn’t just painted a target on his back.

 

*****

 

**2068 - Ho Chi Minh City - March**

Hou kicked his heels on a busy street. He was eating from a stick of deep fried fish balls that were fresh from the fryer, and he was surrounded by a gaggle of his younger relatives. 

Actually, for the most part, they were less than two years his juniors but it seemed that they were now worlds apart. He remembered playing soccer with at least half of them as children. It seemed now that he was older in many ways. 

He chewed contemplatively. 

Chien jostled him companionably. “Cousin! You’ll like this! I promise. You wouldn’t have seen anything like this in fancy New York.” He’d been saying the same thing for a while over the night. His cousin smelled like the cheap beer he’d been drinking.

Hou indulged him, grinning slightly. “I’ll take your word for it, but I have seen cage fights, you know. I’m not all that fancy.” 

Pretty fancy considering the gifts he’d brought back for his family. As distasteful as the Association was, he could not deny that joining had been profitable. He could even admit that not every member was a reptile of a human being, but finding them, and seeing if he could work with them… that, now  _ that  _ was rare. 

It was especially difficult when his preferred partner was still in high school. 

Sometimes Hou wondered what he was doing with his life.

Chien bumped into him again. He was both taller and younger than Hou, but his hands were soft and he was slightly overweight. Too much good food and not enough exercise. Hou remembered when Chien was his equal in training. Hou stayed and excelled while Chien found a new love in graphic design.

He could still appreciate a good fight, though, and that’s where he brought Hou, a few of their other cousins, and they were now waiting for their  _ cousins’ cousins. _

Safety in numbers. 

This was supposed to be a treat for Hou, but he knew he was also there as muscle. You never knew what trouble you would bump into while participating in illegal activities.

Hou shrugged his shoulders, loosening them. He didn’t have his swords or knives but he was still confident in his abilities to help protect the group. He bit off the last fried fishball and tossed the bamboo skewer to the street. “What’s so special about this fight?”

Chien vibrated. “You’ll see. This guy is  _ good _ . Like movie star good.”

Hou scoffed. “Like  _ I’m _ not movie star good.”

“Well, he’s got height and looks, too - ooff!” Chien mock scowled at the swift elbow to the side. He patted his cousin on the head. “It’s okay, bro. You’ll find a tall boy and have tall babies.”

“Or maybe I’ll run away with this tall movie star and just have good sex.”

“Aw no, don’t do that. Who’ll we bet on next.”

“Not my Hollywood guy. I’ll be sucking his cock.” Hou smirked at his cousin. “C’mon, here’s Tran’s cousins. Let’s go meet my future husband.” Chien sighed heavily and Hou could almost  hear the exaggerated eyeroll. Another gaggle of youths joined their group with good natured ribbing. Together, they walked the short distance through the narrow streets. It was slow going as there were food carts and stands with tempting smells and delicious looking displays. Hou found himself sharing a bowl of pho with Chien, both slurping hurriedly as they passed the bowl back and forth. They caught up with the group easily, and they all passed without trouble into the nondescript building. They paid their door fee, and then they were in. 

It was a large room that was made smaller by the cage in the middle. There was currently a warm up act in there, amateurs looking to make a quick buck. Chien left him to put some bets down and Hou huddled with a few other cousins, jostling and joking. The mood was high in the room. Apparently the girls in the group were also enamoured with the good looks of the mysterious fighter. 

Chien came back, a bunch of ticket stubs in his hand. “Good news! Blue Dragon is up next. He’s fighting some Westerner called Callister Rayne.”

Hou scoffed. It was a ridiculous name. 

The amateurs in the cage threw a few rough punches, and a lucky hit knocked one out. There crowd threw up a half-hearted cheer before looking expectantly at the announcer. 

Chien leaned and spoke in his ear. “Blend in with everyone. Don’t stand out.”

Before Hou could look back at his cousin, the announcer was yelling into his mic, revving the crowd up for the drawcard fight. Some men dragged a shirtless figure into the ring, a black sack over his head and choke-poles keeping the figure controlled and restrained. The blue tattoo on his arm was very stark against his pale skin. The crowd went wild, thinking this was part of the show. Hou clapped and cheered along. 

He was starting to think that Chien had an ulterior motive.  

Another figure stepped in after them. He was a giant, well over six feet tall, and towered over the smaller Asian men in the cage. He was fierce looking with scarlet red hair and thick black “tribal” tatts on his torso. He strutted and posed for the crowd and they roared back their appreciation.

As for Rayne’s opponent, the men holding him slipped off their choke poles in a coordinated effort and quickly exited the cage, locking the door behind them. The hooded man tore off his hood, revealing handsome features if his hair and beard were overgrown.

The crowd cheered. Hou cheered along with them, confused. This was the prize fighter that he was brought to see?

Then he caught a glimpse of one of the men who dragged the hooded man in. He wasn’t near but Hou could see the distinctive tattoo on his arm. 

Triad.

Chien caught his eye and quickly turned back to the fight. 

Well.

Blend in.

It was a brutal fight. Hou cheered with the crowd and booed when necessary. He got his money’s worth but he felt ill watching the slaughter.

The red-haired giant had the initial advantage of strength and reach, but he was a flashy show off and wasn’t as well trained as the Blue Dragon. The Blue Dragon was agile and strong, but he was also desperate. He knew what the stakes were. He suffered many blows from Callister Rayne but in the end, it was the red-haired giant Westerner who lay in a bloody mess on the ground. 

The crowd went wild, cheering on the Blue Dragon even as his handlers came to drag him away like a feral animal.

*

“They killed Tam. He was just a kid and they killed him.”

The cousins sat under the leafy branches of the lychee tree on their grandfather’s property, bottles of beer in hand. 

Hou and his cousin looked very little a like. Hou’s features were narrow and sharp with bright eyes. Chien was friendly looking with his rounder face and easier smile. 

Neither man were smiling now.

“How long ago was this?”

Chien shrugged. “Last December, before they made the Blue Dragon fight.”

“Who is he?”

“No one knows, but he has to be Yakuza from that tattoo.”

Hou nodded, sipping his beer. “You could have told me beforehand.”

“Nah. You had to look at ease, like you were one with the crowd.” Chien lifted his bottle to his lips, then paused. “And I needed you in there. You could spot things I couldn’t.”

Hou certainly could and did.

“Make them pay for killing Tam.”

“I will.”

*

Hou spent a week staking out the movements of key Triad members. He marked their schedules and routes, and most importantly, he found their base. It was a lot of hurry up and wait, and in that time, he contemplated Tam, that poor relative who joined the wrong gang who went up against the wrong group of Triad. He knew why Chien waited until he visited. This was something you could only trust family to do correctly. Tam’s gang should have protected him. Tam’s blood would have to do the job that they didn’t. 

Then after, Hou would go after that old gang who abandoned Tam to his fate. 

Hou made his move on a rainy night. He was dressed in a pair of black gi pants, his feet in stockings and light slippers. On his back were his twin dao swords. The mask of the Monkey King sat comfortably on his face.

He scaled the wall of the compound with ease, leaping to the roof on quiet feet. Keeping low, he moved until he found a skylight window he could slip through. Once in, he landed on a catwalk on quiet feet. The building was a warehouse, and it wasn’t as full as it was earlier in the day. A large shipment had just gone out, and with it, the majority of the Triad enforcers. The warehouse had a few guards and the bosses.

Hou was not very fond of the Triad.

He fully intended to paint the warehouse red. 

Crouching low on the skywalk, he duck walked quietly, keeping as low a profile as possible. The warehouse beneath was dimly lit, but Hou could hear the sounds of other people. A local pop song was coming from a lit room across from Hou, and he could hear the sounds of gambling and drinking. He’d moved to the far end of the catwalk when a group of men came in from the rain. They gathered under him, laughing in a mocking manner. He frowned at them. Whatever they were doing, it was bad news for someone. 

The gangsters moved further into the warehouse and Hou dropped soundlessly behind them, slipping out the door and back into the rain. There were more crates, stacked high, and in some cases, precariously. Hou leapt to one, lightly pouncing from crate to crate. There were some sounds around the corner and he pressed his body flat on the top of the crate and peered over.

There were three men laughing and jostling against each other. They were making lewd comments as they looked into the cage. 

The cage. It wasn’t the only one of it’s kind here, but it was the only one occupied. It was made out of iron bars on all sides with a floor of rough concrete. There were two figures in there. One was obviously a Triad member. The other was on the ground, slumped and facedown. The blue tattoo was once again stark against that too pale skin. 

The gangster made a movement at his crotch, pulling down the zipper of his pants.

Hou didn’t even realise he was moving until he was on the ground, and one of the gangsters bleeding and unconscious. The others turned, but Hou had already turned away the hand of the nearest man and flung his wrists up into the man’s jaw. He felt the bone crunch and the man stumbled and fell against some crates, clutching his face. The other man had his gun out. Hou was too quick for him, hooking the gun away from him with a curved wrist then slamming his wrist into his groin, stunning him, and stunning him again with an elbow to his face. He was down, groaning. 

Hou turned, but Blue Dragon had the man in the cage in a chokehold while he gasped and struggled. He pulled out one of his dao swords and smashed the lock open before slotting it through the cage to drop it on the floor beside the Triad prisoner. He turned on his heel, to the sound of someone’s last gasp for breath drawn out to a slow end.

Leaping back up to the crates, he ran back to the back entrance. He had to hurry now; those four gangsters would be missed. The last thing he wanted was a recall of those enforcers out guarding the shipments. Two figures walked into the rain, talking lightly of participating in the night’s entertainment.

Hou’s running leap brought his knee to one of their faces. Bone crunched and his opponent fell. Still moving quickly, he climbed the man’s companion’s body and clung to his shirt. He smashed his masked forehead against the other man’s, leaving him tumbling as Hou dropped off. Another quick flip kick brought his foot into his face and he was down.

There was a shout and Hou looked up. Six more men were coming out, arming themselves. 

Hou leapt up, climbing the sheer walls of the building to the roof. Shots rang out behind him as he disappeared over the edge. He ran again to the open window where he first entered, and he pressed himself low on the catwalk. The three Triad in the lit room were coming out, and the five outside, dragging their two fallen friends in. 

As Richard would say, this was go time. Hou crouched and leapt from the catwalk. He somersaulted twice then landed on one of the nearest three. He dropped with barely a grunt. That was enough to turn the other two around but Hou was already leaping and spinning away into the darkness, cries of the monkey following him. 

There was the obligatory gangster reaction of emptying gun clips into the darkness where Hou had hidden. 

He’d already circled around and with a high pitched monkey scream jumped up and grabbed an enforcer’s gunhand. He twisted his body in midair, twisting the arm with him. There was a scream, clear sign he’d completed the move correctly, and Hou was off again to hide behind some crates.

Twice more of this, and Hou was winded, breathing heavily while leaning against a wall. His sword was now streaked red in his hand. That wasn’t the only thing that was bloody. His left arm was bleeding, grazed by a stray bullet. 

The five remaining gangsters had cut off his avenues of escape.

If Hou had made a mistake, it was that he didn’t pick off the leaders quickly enough. He flexed the grip of his sword, readying himself for one last fight.

Then he heard the sounds of combat.

He carefully peered around the corner and saw Blue Dragon empty a clip into one of the gangsters. He was using another man as a human shield, and that guy was hanging limply off Blue Dragon’s arm. 

Hou leapt out with a screech. He bounded and spun and landed two feet into one of the last Triad member’s chest. He slapped the gun in his hand away, and slammed the heels of his hands on the man’s head. Of the two left, one crumpled from Blue Dragon’s thrown pistol. 

The last man ran. 

Hou was quicker. 

He let out a monkey scream and scrambled on all fours. He leapt again and swung his dao in a downward slash across the man’s neck. 

Hou panted, turning to Blue Dragon. “Now we kill the rest in here.” He spoke in English, not knowing if the man knew Vietnamese or Cantonese, and his own Japanese was bad.

Blue Dragon nodded. “Gladly,” he rasped. 

That bloody work didn’t take long. The crying, weeping, broken bodies in their wake were swiftly put down. Blue Dragon didn’t use the dao Hou gave him when he left the other man in the cage, but handed it back and used a pistol instead. They went into the office and Hou pointed to the safe. “If you can get that open, you can keep whatever’s in there. I don’t want anything to do with Triad money.”

What winnings they won in the fight the other night, he and Chien had donated to the local temples on the way home.

As Hou lifted the mask from his face, he felt the power of the Monkey King leave him, but Hou was still a skilled fighter without it. He hung the mask from his belt before turning his back to Blue Dragon. He was instead more interested in the computer in the corner. He pushed in a thumb drive, wholly intending to strip all data from the hard drive. Hou had the feeling that he and Chien were going to have to sift through ten terabytes of porn and pirated movies before they could even find relevant information.

Something happened behind him that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He smelt ozone and twisted around. There was a flash of blue but the safe was open. Hou knew it was not his imagination that Blue Dragon’s tattoo rippled. He narrowed his brows but didn’t say anything. “We need to get out of here as soon as I’ve downloaded all the data.”

Blue Dragon turned to look at him with sunken, bruised eyes. They were both bare chested, but while Hou looked healthy, Blue was just painfully underfed. His skin was discoloured with bruises and sunburned from exposure and he moved in a way that hinted at sore ribs. 

Not wanting to dwell on the abuse the other man had endured, Hou snagged a nearby bag and tossed it at Blue.

“It’s yours.” He saw the glint of gold and was not interested. There were a few minutes of silence before the thumb drive beeped its completion of the download. “You done?” Blue looked up, not answering. “I’m gone. You can come with me.”

Blue cleared his throat, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Monkey… uses a staff.”

Hou grinned. “We don’t all get magic staffs.” Rather proud of how he kept the old bitterness from his tone, Hou slid the mask back down and pocketed the thumb drive.

He didn't quite expect Blue to follow him or even keep up but he followed Hou’s rooftop route to the waiting van a few streets down, though he was winded by the end.

Chien was waiting in the driver’s seat, stress smoking a series of packs. Sliding open the side door startled him and he dropped his cigarette. 

“Let’s go.” 

Chien looked wide-eyed at the two bloodied men but started the van regardless. Hou settled on the floor of the van, his back against the wall. Blue settled against the back door where he could keep an eye on both Chien and Hou. He looked wary as he hugged the bag close to his chest.

Hou took off his mask, running a hand through his hair. “I’m Matty Hou, that’s my cousin Chien.” He learned that from Richard. Give a stranger a nickname and you earned a little of their trust.

Blue swallowed. “I… am Hanzo.” 

“Got a place to go, Hanzo?”

“N-no. I am… unfamiliar with.” He paused. “I am in Vietnam?”

Hou nodded, trying not to react. “I have spare rooms. You are welcome to one.”

“He has a spare whole house if you don’t like the room,” chipped in Chien. “And if you need clothes, I can lend you some. Hou’s tiny.”

“Seriously? That again?”

“I haven’t called you my tiny cousin in a year.”

“And now’s a good time?”

Chien shrugged, his eyes dancing in the rearview. “There’s some snacks in the bag. You’ll have to share. I wasn’t expecting Hou to bring back a friend.” 

Hou found the plastic bag in question and passed it over to Hanzo without looking in. 

“I can wait until we get home.” He leaned back, closing his eyes. He figured that Hanzo wouldn’t appreciate anyone seeing his weakness. Chien, a long time veteran to his post-fight fatigue, kept up a running commentary in English, talking about nothing in particular. 

Home was about an hour out of city. The van floated over a rough road before turning into their family's secluded compound. Hou noticed the bag of food was only half eaten; the rest was clutched close to Hanzo’s chest. 

“I’m getting the hose,” said Chien as he pulled up beside Hou’s house. He got out without a word. 

“Yeah, good idea.” Hou stretched his sore muscles and stripped down to the skin. He could feel Hanzo’s eyes on him, but didn’t think it was because of his body. “I’m burning these,” he explained. “It’s not my first rodeo, as the Americans say.” 

Hanzo fisted a hand in his pants. They were dark, but Hou had no doubt that they were as blood soaked as his own clothes. Chien was going to wash down the back of the van very thoroughly while Hou showed Hanzo to his room. 

“You can put your things over there,” he gestured to the tiled porch. He looked at his brown stained white socks and snorted, going to fetch the lighter fluid and lighter. Hanzo was reluctantly peeling off his own ragged pants, adding them to the pile. Hou set it on fire when Chien came back, dragging the hose behind him. Chien raised his brows, surprised that he got naked around a stranger but said nothing. Hanzo watched the hose with trepidation. “Yeah, it’s cold,” Hou shrugged. “The shower inside is hot, though.” He signaled to Chien to hose him down first. He didn’t want to get any blood in the house. It had seen enough of that in the past.

He waited for Chien to be finished with Hanzo (it helped the other man that he’d gone first) before grabbing the towel at the door, offering it to the Japanese man. When they had finished wiping off, Hou examined the towel critically and added it to the burning pile as well. 

He grabbed more towels once inside, and handed them to Hanzo. “That’s the guest bathroom. Use as much water as you want, we have a tank.” Hou went to use his own shower in the master bedroom. 

*

They let him keep his food and lent him some clothes. They showed him to a room with a modest bed, then said there was food in the kitchen and he could help himself.

Hanzo looked around the room and wondered when was the last time he’d been in an actual home. It looked like it had belonged to a teen girl at some stage. There were posters of boybands on the wall that had yet to be taken down. The fan in the ceiling slowly turned, pleasantly cooling to the skin.

He looked at his scant belongings, which right now only consisted of the bag of stolen Triad loot and a half full plastic bag of food. He sank heavily on the bed, his face in his hands. 

He wished he could cry but he just tired. It felt good to be clean again. He hadn’t been provided with a razor or a pair of scissors but the mirror in the bathroom had reflected an ill-groomed face. He looked like a starving mountainman, one that lived with wolves and ate his meat raw. 

Hanzo rubbed his face and stood to dress. He was given a tee shirt and a pair of shorts and both were slightly tight. That was something anyway. He’d not lost that much weight. It was amazing how much more human he now felt. He decided to brave the rest of the house.

He found Matty Hou in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables and fragrant herbs. The other man was also freshly showered, his damp hair looking strange without the short spikes There was water boiling on the stove in a saucepan. Hou spared him a glance, then another look. “Huh. We’re going to have to get you some more clothes.”

Hano nodded slowly. “Yes, these are tight.” A pause. “I might rip them if I bend over.”

Hou was breaking open some instant ramen packets when he paused, swallowing, before dumping the noodles into the pot. Hanzo leaned against the fridge. Hou turned as well, leaning against the bench while the noodles cooked. “Could you make sure that there’s no blood on the things you brought in? I don’t want spilt blood in this house.” 

“I... can get rid of the bag if it helps.”

“I’ll give you another one.”

Hanzo shook his head, leary of more charity.

“I will repay your kindness.”

Hou shrugged. “I don’t need money. I earn enough taking contracts overseas.” He met Hanzo’s eyes and raised a brow, inviting questions. When none arrived, he merely turned and tended to the meal. 

Hanzo felt that his months spent caged like an animal made him slow. It had been a while since he spoke English and he had to be sure of what Hou meant. He accepted the bowl of seasoned instant ramen, and looked down at the wholesome toppings of lettuce, Vietnamese mint and basil, and sliced chingensai. A poached egg peeked up at him from beneath the leafy foliage. Bemused, he followed Hou to the table and sat opposite him. They ate in silence, using chopsticks and spoons.

Finally Hanzo looked up. “Forgive me, Hou-san. My English is not very good. When you said you took contracts, do you mean you are...” he paused for the word and gave up. “You kill for a living?” It was a reasonable conclusion considering Hou’s impressive performance at the Triad HQ.

Hou gave a stiff nod. “Yes. You are looking for the word ‘assassin’. We can speak another language if you like. My Japanese is worse than your English, and your English is very good. I can speak Cantonese and, of course, Vietnamese.”

Hanzo switched without a thought. “My Cantonese is better than my English. Thank you for the consideration.” He gave the other man a small sitting bow. Hou politely returned it, shallowly. 

“Eat your meal, we can talk later.” Hou was younger than him, and smaller, but this was his house. Hanzo nodded.

“And Chien-san?” 

“He’s gone back to his home. His family is nearby.”

Family. It didn’t escape Hanzo that he and Hou were alone in a large, if modestly outfitted house, one meant for a large family. 

“Eat,” said Hou, gently. “It’s not lavish, but there’s a lot more in the kitchen.”

After they cleaned up after the meal, Hou brought him to a locked room on the second floor. Hanzo looked around, not all that surprised by the collection of weapons. 

“Choose one. I don’t want my guest to feel uncomfortable in my home.” Hou went to his twin dao swords and started cleaning them. Hanzo looked around at the offerings of bladed and projectile weaponry. He bypassed the collection of swords and eyed the bows. Akio’s bow was lost to him. It had failed him in the fight with the Triad and led to his capture. 

He really should not have put his trust in a dead man’s bow. 

Hanzo sighed and passed them for the knives. A bow would not be practical indoors. 

“You can practice if you know how to shoot one,” said Hou. “There’s a target butt outside near the trees. Just make sure the children don’t run in front of it.” Hanzo swallowed and his hand trembled. No, he wouldn’t be practicing his archery here. He chose some knives. 

“Tomorrow I’ll ask my family for some clothes for you before we take you shopping. Your tattoo is distinctive.” Hou looked over his shoulder, raising a brow. Hanzo suddenly felt more tired.

“My apologies, Hou-san. I will go to bed now.” 

“Of course, good night.”

The bed and pillows smelled musty as if they hadn’t been used in a while. It was still the best sleep he had in years.

Breakfast was a hearty okayu, or rather, congee. Hou’s aunt came early in the morning carrying a huge pot full of the stuff. She was followed by an obedient Chien. “Hanzo-san! Ohayo!” He beamed at Hanzo before switching to English. “I am sorry, that is the extent of my Japanese. My mother found some clothes for you.” He handed the bundle into Hanzo’s arms. He had only come down to help himself to more instant ramen and was not prepared for the assault of Hou’s extended family. “Is Hou still asleep? Good.” Chien grinned. “Go try on those clothes. Don’t be scared by any noises.” 

Going to his room, Hanzo found that these fit much better. A button down and a pair of jeans and there was even a new pack of underwear. A yell of outrage came from Hou’s room, and he ignored it as instructed. He finger combed his hair and attempted a braid to tidy it. A disaster, but a neater disaster. 

There was another angry yell from Hou’s room as Hanzo exited which he also ignored, and went down the stairs to the dining room. Chien’s mother greeted him in broken English.

“Aunty, thank you for your consideration. I can speak Cantonese.” He bowed politely and was immediately ushered to a seat and was spooned a large bowl of rice porridge. It smelled delicious and Hanzo watched as fragrant Vietnamese herbs were dropped in the bowl for him. 

“Eat!” He was commanded by the matron. “There is chicken and fish and dried prawns. Mind the fishbones!” It was a simple meal like the instant ramen from the previous night, and it warmed his soul like it hadn’t been in a while. 

He discretely spat the forewarned fishbones into his spoon to stack to the side of the bowl. 

Chien and Hou came down the stairs, jostling and arguing, and were both immediately scolded by Chien’s mother. They took their seats on either side of Hanzo. That was when he realised he’d been curled around his bowl. He straightened, shamefaced, as Hou spooned porridge into two bowls and passed one to Chien. Then Hou spooned more congee into Hanzo’s bowl. 

Hanzo almost couldn’t handle this. He fisted his hands on either side of the bowl. He started to shake.

This was not the place to have a breakdown. 

Dimly, he heard Chien say something to his mother, and then it was just the three of them at the table. 

Hanzo tried again. His hand shook as he picked up the spoon. Hou just reached out and placed his hand over his, lowering the spoon. Hanzo let go and hid his face in his hands. 

“Do you have anyone we can call? Family? Friends?”

Hanzo stared into his bowl, his loneliness gaping before him.

“I have no one.”

“You got us.” Hanzo turned his head to Chien’s smile. “I’m Wong Chien Lu, you met my cousin Matthew Hou Wong.” His smile invited Hanzo to introduce himself in turn.

Hanzo looked at him, all too aware of Hou on his other side. Hou was was at his peak, Hou who was a  _ professional _ . 

He had seen Hou at work last night. He was not up to matching him.

Perhaps it was time.

He closed his eyes briefly.

“Shimada. Hanzo.”

A slight shift behind him, a movement of air, then stillness.

“Shimada-san!” said Chien cheerfully. “You are among friends now.” Then Hanzo saw his eyes move to look past him. Hanzo’s back felt vulnerable. 

“Shimada Hanzo, look at me.”

Hanzo closed eyes again. He opened them and slowly turned his head. Hou with his sharp, narrow face, and keen, keen eyes, stared him down. 

“Shimada Hanzo. Do you mean my family harm?”

Hanzo stuttered. “N-no. I do not.” Surprised at the question. “You have not done me harm.”

Hou nodded. “Then I have no reason to take your contract.” 

Hanzo swallowed. That just confirmed there was one on him.

“You are safe here.”

His hands began to shake again.

“Eat your breakfast,” Hou said gently. “You should get your strength back.” He then switched to Vietnamese and had a rapid exchange with Chien. There was what was an obvious muffled oath from Chien. 

Hanzo only looked at his meal. 

Why were they being so kind?

His face felt wet. He began to eat again, each spoonful tasting of too much salt. The cousins didn’t say anything but suggested he go rest in his room. Hanzo didn’t argue. He only did as asked, and stripped before getting into bed. He curled around the musty bedding, listening to the lazy rotation of the ceiling fan as sleep claimed him.

 

*****

 

**2076 - Gibraltar**

Adrian had a long time to gather his thoughts. His initial questioning was a disaster when he loudly wondered what sort of monkeys were running Overwatch.

Little did he know that Winston was right behind him.

“Mr. Everard.”

Adrian slowly turned at that all too familiar voice. “Dr. Winston.” A pause while he rearranged his thoughts. “My apologies if you heard that. I was unaware.” Of  _ course _ the uplifted gorilla would be part of Overwatch.

Winston adjusted his glasses. “I thought your name sounded familiar. I see that you have pursuits other than your failing academic career.”

Adrian winced. He could feel Hanzo’s glare from across the table.

“Hey, wait, you know each other?” Hana looked up from her portable gaming unit.

“Yes, Mr. Everard is a constant fixture at my guest lectures at MIT. It’s only a shame that his papers are less of a constant fixture.” He fixed the blond man with a gimlet stare.

“I’ve been busy.” Adrian shrugged helplessly. 

“Yes, I had thought you a lazy student but I do suppose that being an international assassin is busy work.”

Hana snickered. Adrian shrugged again. 

“I missed the deadline for my last paper because I got shot.”

Hana stopped snickering. Adrian smirked at her.

“But I am on track for this last term paper. I collated my thoughts while under a leaky tree in the Amazon and all I need to do is actually pound out the words.”

Winston adjusted his glasses. “Excellent. Excellent. See that you do.” He wandered to the pantry to stock up on his supply of peanut butter.

Adrian turned to see Hanzo’s glare. He shrugged again. “I  _ do _ have five jobs.”

“You can’t afford to be almost expelled. Again.”

“I’ll get it done.”

There was grumbling as Adrian pulled a few all nighters completing his term paper and sending it off. One handed, this involved a variety of interactions with his desktop equivalent tablet. Projecting several images at once and a laser keyboard on the table surface, it took Adrian’s voice commands and transformed them into complex equations and tables. 

Hanzo was glad to see the younger man was a wreck after that, herding him off to bed. A sleeping Adrian was an Adrian who kept out of trouble.

A day later, Adrian was back to regarding the actual official meeting with Winston. He still had to stack his cards correctly, and considered the possibility of going into politics himself. After all, he’d faced down dictators, professional assassins and cult leaders. The world of politics was surely no different.

His mother laughed at him when he brought it up.

“Mother, please stop. It’s emasculating.” 

“Darling child.” She paused, composing herself. “You do realise that you will need to retire from…  _ Professional _ work if you enter politics.”

Adrian paused. He hadn’t actually thought of that.

“And while it would be possible to establish you, it will devour most of our fortune in bribes?”

Adrian groaned. “All right, it was a silly idea. I’ll think of something else.”

“I know you will. Ah, speaking of bribes, I have extracted your property from Marseilles.”

Adrian perked up.

“But the red Ferrari was unfortunately in a bad state. Apparently it just exploded when someone tried to hotwire it.”

“Ah. I see. It was ‘accidentally’ left by itself in a dark street, was it?” Adrian eyed Hanzo, who was innocently reading a book while pressed against McCree’s side. The cowboy was getting thoroughly trounced by Hana and Mei at the latest  _ Super Smash Bros.  _ installment.  

“Darling, I cannot say, but I must say that I am quite glad that it’s no longer in your life.”

“It could be been a gift to someone, you know, dear.”

A sigh over the phone. “Honestly? I’m sure that you could find other ways to rid yourself of someone you disliked.”

“But,  _ dear _ , the  _ irony _ . Just imagine the  _ irony. _ ” 

Another sigh. “Oh, my darling child. 

Adrian sniffed. “My genius goes unnoticed. Anyway, the Marseilles business?”

“Yes, I’ve moved them to your Paris holdings. And darling… There are other ways of lobbying for political support.”

Adrian braced himself. “Uncle Donovan.”

“Yes, darling, but also your St. James relatives.”

He tried not to groan. 

“Or rather, your grandmother. She’s a lovely lady, you know, much under the thumb of her husband and sons. I’m happy to say that she’s come into her own so late in life. She is an ally you would be wise to curry favour with.”

“That is all very good, mother, but the St. Jameses have always looked down on me for being illegitimate. Not that that is censure on you, dearest.”

“Oh, darling. Now who would be so unwise to say such a thing?”

“Theodore’s kids, the hellion boys, Francis and Jonathan.”

“Darling, you were ten when you last saw them.”

“And when I broke their noses.” Adrian couldn’t help sounding smug. He might have been a skinny ten year old, but they had been strapping at twelve and thirteen. “Father was pleased though and… yes. Isolde did defend me. I suppose that it is time I visited the old girl.”

“That’s a good darling. Now about your various injuries, how are they?”

Adrian shrugged and was glad to notice the ache that was a constant companion over the last week had all but disappeared. “I hurt less but the splint on my leg and the cast on my hand stay on for another week. At least I don’t need the chair anymore. I just stomp around like an angry horse. Sensei insists that I stay for a couple more weeks after the casts come off. We’re going to work on my conditioning. My plans from there are in the air. I’ll head to Manhattan, of course. I want to see what father’s been up to.” 

“Naturally. Make sure your grandmother will be your first port of call when you arrive in New York.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. And thank you for sending my clothes over. I was getting tired of standing, taking two steps forward, and finding my borrowed pants at my ankles.”

“Oh, darling.”

“It was a trial, dearest.”

“Darling.”

“I did have underwear on.” Adrian was grinning. “With that high note, I’ll let you go, mother.”

She chuckled softly. “Oh darling. Don’t test Hanzo-san’s allies too much, hmm? Be well.”

“Be well, mother.” Adrian set his phone down. He looked over at the group on the sofa and rubbed his week old stubble. He needed a haircut and a shave. He needed his suits, he needed a smoke and a drink. He needed to move.

Of those six, he could fix three. He couldn’t do much with his splinted leg, but he could finally shave now that his kit arrived. 

Wearing his own clothes was a comfort. While he was grateful to McCree for the loan of the sweatpants, and it was a delight to finally find many of his missing tee shirts in Hanzo’s closet, it was all much too much like wearing another person’s skin. 

Suddenly it was much too still in the common room. Much too still, and much too active. It felt like the gathering of the storm and he felt his nerves begin to grate. He was cognizant enough to realise it was merely his restlessness playing up. Adrian packed slowly as to not attract concern. Gathering his phone and tablet into his satchel and headed out in the direction of his borrowed room. Once there, he stood in the middle of the small room, still feeling the tenseness in his limbs that called for fight or flight. Normally he’d run it off, but his healing leg made that impossible. Unpacking his satchel, the tablet came out, but his shaving kit, a bottle of water and a hand towel, his silver flask and a packet of smokes went back in. With that, Adrian went to find somewhere private, preferably someplace where he could expend some energy getting to.

He really didn’t need to go very far. Adrian found a nice spot on the cliffs. It was rather difficult to get to with just one hand and one leg, but he managed with less than his usual ease. Adrian was glad to see that he had lost little of his strength in recovery and, while clumsy, he could scramble up the rocks with just the strength of one good hand and the blunted motion of his other limbs. Adrian relished the strain in his shoulders and the challenge on his body. It felt good to move under his own power again. He was not graceful, he wasn’t fast, but he still had height and good balance. He found his spot and settled with the yellow rock against his back and just listened to the ships go by with his eyes closed.

And if he were catching his breath, who was there to say otherwise.

Apart from Genji.

Adrian heard the soft whirrs of his machinery meters away before the cyborg landed nimbly beside him. 

“You looked like a sack of bricks.”

Adrian smiled, opening his eyes. “Thank you. It’s ever my intention to amble ungainly through life.”

Genji grunted. “What are you doing up here?” He sank into a cross-legged position, all mechanical grace.

“Looking for some privacy and time to myself.” Adrian opened his satchel and took out his shaving kit. He laid out the contents. Silver straight razor, soap in a travel canister and the shaving brush. “You can stay if you wish. I don’t mind. It got a little crowded on base.”

Genji looked on curiously as Adrian awkwardly used the water in his bottle to build up a lather with the brush. All things were awkward with only one working hand. He pulled out the towel and wet that too, before awkwardly pouring water into his cupped hand to thoroughly dampen his face. It wasn’t ideal, and the razor was still going to scrape his skin, but it was better than nothing. 

“So by ‘time to yourself’ you mean ‘shave in private’?”

“More like… do the things I like doing by myself. Shaving, drinking, smoking. You don’t register as noise to me, so I don’t mind your company.”

Genji tilted his head at that. Adrian only checked the edge of his razor, scraping the pad of his thumb over the edge. It was keen enough for his satisfaction. He used the brush to lather his face. Then he took the straight edge and began to shave. His hand was sure and steady as he glided the edge over his skin. His eyes rested on the blue of the sea and the blade travelled the contours of his face. He wiped the foam on the blade on the towel with each pass, and it didn’t take long for him to feel more himself. 

Adrian sighed, folding the razor away and wiping his face with the clean side of the towel. 

Genji watched him all the while like he was a fascinating toy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! This is a nice spot to pause for a few weeks. I need to get the buffer up again, fix continuity errors in both EW and RoS (I caught a mistake that indicates that Hanzo visited Hanamura on Genji's anniversary thrice in two years), and work on one or two projects that have been trying to catch my attention. I'll have a one shot ready for giggles next week, and we'll see from there!


	4. Missteps and Wrong Feet Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo struggles with his newfound freedom from Triad captivity and makes several mistakes along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for Evanelric for the beta and cheerleading! <3
> 
> This chapter has warnings for: transphobic slurs

**2068 -  Ho Chi Minh City**

Hanzo shivered, wet and cold. Hou roughly toweled him dry. The smaller man had found him after he’d spent much too long in the shower, shivering under the by-then cold spray. He didn’t say a word but Hanzo was cognizant enough to sense the fury under the rough care. Hou’s sharp and narrow features were pinched with emotion. 

“Bend down,” Hou snapped. Hanzo did as he was told, lowering his head, obedient towards this man who barely cleared his shoulder in height. Hou toweled his hair as best he could with the now damp towel. He wrapped it around Hanzo’s waist and made him hold it before hustling the Japanese man out of the bathroom, into the hall and back into his room. Hanzo crawled into his bed, his back turned to Hou. He could hear the smaller man rustle in his scant belongings. 

Hanzo curled into a tighter ball.

He heard Hou stop beside the bed. Something soft was dropped behind him. 

“Get dressed. I want to see you downstairs in ten minutes. We’re going for a run.”

Hou left the room. 

Hanzo stared blankly at the wall for a long moment before he found the courage to uncurl to sit on the edge of the bed. 

A run.

He hadn’t left the house since he arrived a week ago. 

It was safe here, surrounded by the innocence of boyband posters and wrapped in the illusion of safety. 

It was only an illusion. 

Hanzo had found dried blood in forgotten corners of the house and had discreetly wiped away the stains when Hou was not around. It didn’t escape his notice that Hou spent as little time in his home as possible. 

Still.

Hanzo had tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. He was trying to control his food hoarding habit. He took care of meals when it became clear that Hou’s culinary skills didn’t extend beyond congee and instant noodles. He cleaned and tidied the house. 

Hanzo was trying to make his first safe home in a long time last as long as possible. 

Hou was now waiting for him downstairs. 

They were going outside. 

Outside. 

The soft fabric of the exercise shirt was slick in his hands. He pulled it on, slower than he should have. He stood to pull on underwear and shorts, then his socks. He left the trainers off to carry in hand. 

Which was why he was trying to fight his anxiety of the outside world by joining Hou. The other man was on the floor, legs stretched wide. He didn’t look up at Hanzo when he climbed down the stairs. Hanzo tied his hair with a bright yellow scrunchie given to him by one of Hou’s numerous small cousins.

He wore his borrowed knife under the shirt.

“You’re late.” Hou climbed to his feet. “Let’s go.”

They paused to put on their trainers before Hanzo followed the younger man outside. It took strength that Hanzo didn’t realise he still had to step past the front door. The outside world gaped before him.

He shuddered, still fighting the impulse to dive back into the house, and followed Hou into the gathering twilight. 

The other households were having their dinner. Hanzo could hear the clink of tableware and the murmur of conversation as they jogged between houses and past family courtyards. The compound was larger than Hanzo had realised. It was a veritable village of twenty households. 

Half the houses lay dark and empty. 

Hanzo had questions, but he could connect the dots.

For now, his limbs stretched and burned from long disuse. It felt good to fill his lungs with fresh air. It felt good to move even if he knew that he would pay for this sudden activity tomorrow. He tried to not let the humidity or the buzzing of blood-seeking insects distract him. 

Hou hadn’t set a quick pace, but Hanzo still found himself winded. When full dusk fell, Hou switched on his headlamp and they continued running laps around the compound. They circled around the smaller family homes and skirted past the biggest house. Only a single room was lit. Hou didn’t even look at it as he jogged past. 

They slowed to a stop once Hanzo’s breathing got too ragged. He couldn’t even build up any indignation over the pity Hou must feel towards him. He panted heavily over his knees, now feeling the stitch in his side that he hadn’t allowed himself to notice.

Hou passed him a cold bottle of water and Hanzo drained it in one go. “Cool down while I get out the mats and gloves.”

Hanzo raised his brows, having already bent over to touch his toes. As promised, Hou came, dragging exercise mats behind him before going back in for the rest of the gear. Hanzo eyed the growing pile and started to focus on stretching his arms, shoulders and back. Wordlessly, Hou gestured to the mats and carried his armful of boxing gear around the back of the house. Hanzo had not yet been around the back of the house and none of the windows looked over the back courtyard. There was some clear space on the bare ground nearest to the house - the exercise mats went there.

There were also logs and poles of varying heights set into the ground, and on the farthest end of the yard was a wooden climbing wall. There were other shapes in the dark that Hanzo could not make out even with the help of the spotlights that shone from the back wall of the house.

Eyes still roaming the shadowy structures, Hanzo fumbled at the pair of gloves that Hou tossed at him. The other man grinned, then tossed two more items at him. Hanzo almost dropped everything catching them. 

“Put them on. I want to see what you’re capable of.” 

“Them” turned out to be handwraps to go under the padded boxing gloves. He looked back at Hou with a raised brow. The other man was already wrapping his own hand and wrist up. Hanzo took in Hou’s impressive musculature and the lean, if short, frame. He knew what Hou was capable of. He hadn’t displayed that inhuman agility since that night in the Triad warehouse (his rescue), and while Hanzo was still severely underweight, he still possessed a powerful frame and height over the other man. Speed and agility vs power, if that was the game Hou wanted to play. 

Hanzo felt, if not excitement, then a growing sense of challenge. The run had shocked him into the open, but the promise of a fight, even a practice spar such as this, caused his blood to run hot. This was not the cage where he was driven to fight like an animal. 

Hou wanted to see his  _ skill _ .

Hanzo had his wrists wrapped before he knew it, and tugging on the gloves, he turned to raise them at Hou. 

The first few jabs were experimental, a test of reach and strength. Hou easily deflected or dodged his blows and Hanzo blocked and absorbed Hou’s strikes. 

They carried on like this for a few passes, circling around each other, eyes on the minute shifts that telegraphed a strike. Even so, it was very much clear to Hanzo that Hou only meant this as a warm up. While Hou was by no means easy on him, he was also not exerting himself. Hanzo, on the other hand, was feeling the effects of his long months of capture and torment. He had only been let out of one cage to fight in another and this extended exercise was taking a toll on his breathing and his muscles.

He relished it. He relished it all, signs of the freedom that had for months had been kept from him.  

“So.” Hou wasn’t even winded. “What’s your training?”

“Ninjutsu. Judo.” Hanzo’s reply was short as he panted lightly. “Many melee weapons.”

“But not the sword?”

Hanzo’s pause was almost imperceivable. “No. Not anymore.”

Hou’s eyes glinted. Hanzo knew from the stories that Monkey was both curious and smart. He headed off the questions that he didn’t want to answer with one of his own. “And what is  _ your _ training?”

“Kung fu, monkey style, and a bit of Wing Chun. I  _ only _ know the swords.”

Hanzo nodded, and blocked the blow to his liver that became a feint to his face. He called a halt despite himself, once again bent over his knees and panting for breath. He could push, knew he could, but Hanzo already knew his body would punish him the following day.

“All right. In all honesty, how far are you compared to your full strength?” Hanzo was ready for this. It was a question he’d ask someone of his condition. 

“Seventy, perhaps seventy-five percent.” 

That made Hou pause to reevaluate the man before him. Hanzo had just admitted he was in worse shape than he appeared and was still skilled despite his weakness. Hanzo wondered if he would ever again reach the physical fitness he had before he left Hanamura. He was thirty now, by no means out of his peak years but the last few had been tough on his body. 

He decided to elaborate. “I have not been a hundred percent for a few years.”

Hou made a thoughtful sound. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Do you think you could build back up?”

Hanzo shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to try?”

Still bent over his knees, Hanzo looked up. “Why are you helping me?” He understood, barely, that Hou released him from the Triads out of hatred for them (and pity for him), but the continued offer of sanctuary made a part of him nervous and paranoid. 

Hou lifted his chin. “Perhaps you could help  _ me _ . I need skilled allies. I have a partner in America but he has his own agendas.” He paused, mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to add more. Hanzo could tell that he decided against elaborating. Instead he said, “I need a partner who can provide assistance at will.”

“Assistance… against the Triad.”

“Don’t you also want your vengeance for what they did to you? There’s still more of them in Ho Chi Minh City. We didn’t get them all that night.” Hou’s eyes pinned him and it rankled his ragged pride.

“You presume too much.” Hanzo straightened, hands clenched into fists at his sides. 

“I presumed you were a fighter. Am I mistaken?”

Hanzo worked his jaw and stayed silent.

“I have my own reasons for hunting Triad.”

Hanzo continued to stay silent. There had been many visitors to the house in the week he’d arrived, but it didn’t not escape his notice that while there were many aunties, there weren’t many uncles to match them.

“And if I don’t wish to join your fight?”

“Then I find someone else to help me. I am not a desperate man.”

_ Not even a man _ , said the petty part of Hanzo that he thought he’d left behind in Hanamura.

Then he realised he said it aloud.

Hou dropped his arms to his side, baring his teeth. “Yes. That’s the sort of attitude I expected from a fucking Jap.”

He deserved that, but Hanzo was damned if he’d admit it. “It is better to be a fucking Jap than some girl playing at being a man.”

Hanzo didn’t even see the blow when it came, Hou was lightning quick. He staggered backwards, shaking his head to clear the ringing. 

“C’mon. You got more to say,  _ Jap _ ?”

Hanzo tasted copper. “You hit like a girl.”

Hou paused, nostrils flaring. Then his eyes went from murderous to amused. He laughed at Hanzo. “Fucking asshole. Get inside. We start training at daylight.” His eyes promised no mercy. 

Hanzo hesitated. 

“Go on. Shower and get something to eat. Rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow.” Hou continued to smile toothily at him. 

Hanzo hesitated again, but went into the house. He showered again, then locked himself in his room as an overwhelming feeling of nausea rose in a suffocating wave of insecurity. His lungs tightened and the air strangled in his throat.

He slid to the cool tile floor, breath shuddering out as he held his head in his hands. 

Why did he do that?

Hanzo reached behind him blindly for a pillow, hugged it tightly to his chest 

*

Chien found his cousin around the back, balancing on a pole on the tip of one toe. 

“Saw you running your guest around. Good job getting him out of the house,” he said in Vietnamese. 

Hou snorted, switching to the other toe. “Fucking jerk called me a girl.”

Chien whistled. “And he’s still alive?”

“He didn’t back down. There’s still fire in him.” Hou concentrated then flipped forward to the nearest pole. He landed on his hands and bent his legs over his head. “Go and see if he’s eaten? I’m going to train him back to form even if it kills him.” Hou grinned fiercely. 

“You can be a real fucker, cuz.” 

Hou flipped him the bird while bringing his feet to rest on either side of his head.

Chien made his way back into Hou’s house and up the stairs to Hanzo’s room. He knocked. “Hanzo-san, are you alive in there?”

Silence. 

He tried the door. 

It was locked. 

He knocked again. “Hanzo-san?” Nothing. Chien pressed his ear to the door and heard loud erratic breathing.

He ran back down the stairs and the front door in his barefeet.

“Matt! Hanzo’s in trouble. The door’s locked.”

Hou didn’t bother with questions. He leapt off the pole and landed running. The window to his old room was open and Chien watched as Hou scaled the plastered and painted brick wall to the second floor. Chien stayed only to watch as Hou pried the mosquito screen open and crawled through.

Chien ran back inside, not caring that he tracked dirt into the house with his bare feet, and up the stairs. There was a cry inside the room, but the door swung open from the inside. 

Hou shook his head. “Panic attack. Could you get some tea?”

“Oh, is that all?” Chien could feel his heart pounding. “Tea. Sure. Any kind?”

Hou shrugged. “I have no idea what’s in the kitchen.” He heard a noise and looked to the side. “Hanzo-san is now under the bed.” He left abruptly, leaving the door ajar. Chien flung his hands in the air and ran back down the stairs. Setting the kettle to boil on the stovetop, he investigated tea options. The box of green tea bags looked the newest. He looked around and found Aunty Rose’s old stained teapot in a cupboard and gave it a scrub before filling it up full of tea and boiling water. He brought the pot, along with a couple of mugs, up the stairs, hot liquid sloshing over the spout in his haste.

Neither Hou nor Hanzo were to be seen. Then he bent and looked under the bed. Chien didn’t think that large framed Japanese man could actually fit comfortably under the bed. Hou shrugged at him, resting one hand on Hanzo’s neck. Chien shrugged back, setting the tea and mugs on the floor. “I’ll go make dinner.” Hou shrugged again, out of his depth, but the only one of the two who could take care of Hanzo if he became violent.

In the kitchen, Chien was faced with the reality of a bachelor household where Bachelor A was an indifferent cook and Bachelor B had been a shut-in for the past week. There were instant noodle packets aplenty, but apart from a few eggs, there was little else. Even the ever-populated vegetable drawer in the fridge was sadly dwindled away. What leftovers there were indicated that Hanzo and Hou subsisted on rice, eggs, vegetables, and the pity of Hou and Chien’s aunties.

Chien sighed deeply and went to beg ingredients from his mother.

*

It was cramped and dusty under the bed. Hou didn’t know how Hanzo did it. The Japanese man was curled on his front, hiding his face in a pillow and drawing in slow, shuddering breaths. Hou continued to awkwardly pat his back. He considered calling Richard for advice. His partner would have been up for hours, Vietnam being exactly twelve hours ahead of the American East Coast. He decided against it in the end. It was best if he handled this on his own. No need to involve Richard and no need to concern him if things were to go badly. He’d deal with this.

Hou turned down his mouth as he looked Hanzo’s unhappy trembling.

Yeah. Sure. He’d deal with it. 

He sighed, cursing his soft heart, and crawled closer to Hanzo. He wrapped his arms around the bigger man and held him tightly. Hanzo stiffened for a moment. Then he collapsed into racking sobs. Hou cursed softly and tightened his hold. Hanzo’s hand came up and grasped Hou’s shoulder. There was desperation in that act, as if he were a drowning man on his last line. 

Hou got the distinct feeling that this wasn’t just about the capture by the Triad. 

There was something old about this wretched state. It wasn’t like the times he’d found Hanzo spaced out and shivering under a shower gone cold. This was something so deep-set that it ruptured out with violence. It wasn’t going to be fixed overnight by hiding under the bed. Hou waited until the sobs calmed and there was only silence in the room apart from the sounds of their breathing. 

Hou wondered how to start.

He didn’t have to. Hanzo spoke first. His voice was rough, hoarse. 

“I… am sorry. I am sorry for this. I am sorry for insulting you. You have been a kind host.”

Hou didn’t say anything and wished Richard was here. Reading people and saying the right thing was more his partner’s expertise. He patted Hanzo’s shoulder instead. “There’s tea if you want some. Chien’s making some food for us.” He felt more than saw Hanzo’s head nod. He patted Hanzo on the shoulder again and extracted his arms before crawling out into the open. He sneezed and poured warm tea into the waiting mugs as Hanzo also crawled out. They sat on the floor, and sipped for a quiet moment.

Hanzo spoke first, clearing his throat. “This tea is burnt.”

“How do you burn tea?” Hou said, incredulously. “How can you tell?” He looked into his mug for answers.

Hanzo cleared his throat again. “It is bitter. For sencha, you do not need to add water at boiling temperature.”

“Tea is not meant to be bitter?”

Hanzo managed a weak smile, shaking his head. “No. Sencha is not. The flavours are subtle.”

“Huh. Then you will have to make a proper sencha for me.”

“That can be arranged.”

They smiled at each other in an almost shy manner.

*

Hou hadn’t lied when he said he wasn’t going to go easy on Hanzo. With a body that was still sore from the previous day’s exercise, Hanzo huffed though from sunup to midday. Hou rotated him through cardio, strength and hand-to-hand, then back to cardio again. Hanzo collapsed in an untidy pile on the living room floor as Hou nimbly stepped over him on the way to the kitchen. 

“Don’t worry,” said Chien, panting. He joined them on the last run and was sitting on the floor beside Hanzo. “Matt is a freak.”

Hanzo shook his head. “No. I could have kept up, once.”

“You are both freaks,” Chien announced. “Matt, you had better be bringing us water!”

“I have a hose!”

“I put bottles in your fridge!”

“You’re such a good wife, cousin!”

Chien snorted, giving up, but Hou came by and dropped off the chilled bottles of water before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

Hanzo nursed the cold bottle against his face. “Instant noodles,” he said.

Chien sighed. “Yes.”

Lunch was as they predicted, instant noodles with a single egg and heavily garnished with leafy vegetables.

“I’m going shopping after lunch,” Hou announced. “We need protein powder and milk. Hanzo, are you lactose tolerant?”

Hanzo bent over his bowl and shook his head. 

“Soy?”

“Soy is fine.”

“Excellent.” Hou was practically rubbing his hands in glee.

“Don’t forget you need more food that that.”

“And tea.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Hou said, blithely.

Hanzo and Chien exchanged a glance. “I’ll go with you, cousin.”

“Good! I could use the extra hands to carry the shopping! Hanzo!” 

Hanzo looked up, startled. 

“I want you to eat more after your nap.”

Nap? Hanzo looked confused and it showed.

“I want you to be well rested.” Hou beamed. “But don’t worry, we’ll go easy in the afternoon. I think we’ll look at agility and armed combat.”

Chien slurped his noodles in a glad manner, happy that his involvement was purely voluntary. 

*

Later, washed and dressed in fresh clothes, Hou and Chien hopped into Chien’s mother’s car and drove to a local market. 

“So… what do the aunties say?”

Chien was driving, and he gave Hou a sideways look. “The usual thing. You’re being shameful with having a man in your father’s house. Also you’re both too thin and must be fed.”

“The trans thing?”

Chien shrugged. “The same range from disapproval to wary acceptance, only it’s overlaid with resignation now. I wouldn’t worry about it. They’re not going to kick you out, especially since the Mask accepted you.”

“Hmm.” Hou looked out the window. “I’ve not seen Grandfather in the couple weeks I’ve been home.”

“Yeah. You’re not alone there. He doesn’t come out of the big house much.”

Hou grunted, not as sympathetic as he knew he should be to an old man who had lost many of his sons and sons-in-law and grandsons in a single night. 

“So, what’s with Hanzo-san? What’s got him so messed up?”

“I don’t know. I only know his name and clan by reputation. Even then, I don’t follow Yakuza news. I’ll ask my partner in the States and see what he knows.”

“Dude’s not well.”

“Anybody can see that.” Hou tapped the back of his fingers against the window. “A good person would find proper help for him, I suppose.

Silence from Chien’s side.

“I need strong and powerful allies. He’s not at his full strength and he was still able to hold out for months in that cage.

“Perhaps… there is more to life than revenge.”

The silence came from Hou’s side. Chien steeled himself, knowing what was coming. Hou surprised him. He bypassed all the names of the fallen and went straight to the heartwrencher. “Peony was only eleven.” What scared Chien the most was how calm Hou was. There was silence again.

“So. I will build up Hanzo and see what he’s made of, and then… maybe we can work together.”

“A transphobic…”

“He’s apologised for that. But you’re right. We’ll see.”

Chien exhaled, long and slow. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“About Hanzo?”

“No… just in general.”

Hou again tapped against the glass in a thoughtful manner.

“I’ll be careful.”

“That is all I ask.”

A long silence while Chien drove.

“If you die, I get your house, right?”

“Oh, fuck off!” The mood lifted and they laughed. 

*

That good mood evaporated when they returned. The cousins hopped out of the car and started to unload. Hou called out to Hanzo to give them a hand. There was no reply from within the house. Hou shrugged and checked the training area in the back. That, too, was empty. The cousins managed, regardless, making a couple of trips back and forth before wondering how to store everything away in the kitchen. Again, they managed. If their storage methods weren’t as neat as when Hou’s mother was alive, food and other goods were still able to be put away.

Hou then went to check on Hanzo in his room. The Japanese man wasn’t there, his bed neatly made and the cups from last night removed to the kitchen. Frowning, he checked that Hanzo’s scant belongings were still there and they were.

It was still early afternoon, though the day was warm. Chien needed to work on a few commissions so he went back home. 

Hou sat on the porch swing, trying not to frown or worry. The Japanese man could take care of himself, surely. He checked the time. It was late, back in the States. Very late or very early depending on your point of view. Richard would be asleep, or should be asleep. Hou didn’t expect an immediate answer when he sent off a text.  _ Have you heard of Shimada Hanzo _ ? He tucked the phone away. 

Hou jumped when it buzzed in his pocket.

_ Sounds familiar. Kumicho of the Shimada-gumi, was it? I heard he disappeared. Need me to dig deeper? _

_ Please. And get some sleep. _

_ I need straight As if I want to get into Harvard, but I’m done with study and heading to bed now. _

Hou snorted lightly. Richard didn’t even like Massachusetts. 

His phone buzzed again.

_ When do you need this information by? And what are you doing with Yakuza? Spreading your interests? _

_ I don’t need it soon. I’ve run across Shimada and was curious. _

_ I should have the information before you get back. _

_ Thank you. Go to sleep. _

Richard’s reply was an out of character :P emoji. Or rather, it was in character with his age and not the Richard persona he carried.

Sometimes Hou worried about his partner.

Towards dinner, Hou felt his concern morph into severe annoyance then back into worry again as Hanzo failed to return by dinner time. He was about to organise a search party when his worry turned into  _ full out fury _ as Hanzo came ambling by, his arm around  _ his grandfather _ , and they were both singing loudly and off key in Cantonese. 

Hou was glad that no one else was around to see this, but the sounds would have travelled all the way beyond Chien’s house. 

At least the stench of alcohol didn’t have the same reach.

Hou grit his teeth as the two of them stopped in front of his house to loudly finish their song. 

Hanzo turned and beamed at Hou, swaying on his feet.

“Your grandson is an amazing fighter,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper to Grandfather.

Hou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Grandson? Only my shameful granddaughter is here.”

Hou went back in the house before he killed the old man. 

He stood in the middle of the living room, hands clenched at his side. He dimly heard raised voices outside then heavy footsteps came in. 

Hou tried to control his breathing. 

Hanzo stopped beside him and cleared his throat. “Your grandfather is wrong. I hope that you do not listen to him.”

Hou tilted his head upwards to look at him.

Hanzo closed his eyes and looked like he was trying to focus and concentrate through his drunken fog. “I once listened to the elders of my clan and I made a regrettable mistake. It is a difficult concept, but the elders do not always know best.”

Hou let his tension out in a slow breath. “Go to bed, Hanzo-san.”

Hanzo nodded his shaggy head (Hou was very much torn between wanting to give him a haircut or to just untangle those long locks with his fingers) and stumbled up the stairs. 

Hou hated to admit it, but it was one of the few nights where the Japanese man didn’t wake up screaming.

*

Hou had left a bottle of water and some painkillers by Hanzo’s bedside and didn’t really expect to see him for the rest of the next day. Instead, he girded himself to plough through the stolen Triad data. This was not the first time he’d perused the data. It was dull stuff. It was easy enough to filter through the expected porn, and while the shipment and finance reports were interesting, they weren’t what he needed. He needed names, locations and dates.  _ Specific  _ names. Specific  _ individuals. _

Hou spent hours over the files. A scratch sheet by his side was filled with his cramped shorthand. The information he found would be worth something to Richard, at the very least. It was just slow work tinged with bitter disappointment each time a file revealed nothing about his quarry.

He’d only realised how late it was when the sun had set outside, and the crickets were singing in the darkness. Hanzo stumbled down the stairs, his long hair wet and sticking to the back of his shirt. The Japanese man had managed to shave without cutting himself, the rough facial hair trimmed into a neat goatee. He still looked seedy and needed a good rest, but Hou realised that a groomed Hanzo was far, far more attractive than the half wild man trapped in a cage fight. 

He blinked slowly when he realised he was starring. He was pretty sure Hanzo hadn’t noticed as he slowly lowered himself into a chair..

“You did not wake me up for training today.”

Hou snorted. “Can you move without hurting?”

Hanzo sighed. “I am sorry. I will do better tomorrow.” A pause as his gaze sharpened and he looked at Hou. “Did I say anything last night?”

“Heh. You said plenty of things. You sang with Grandfather and you defended my honour when he insulted me. I don’t think you’ll be drinking with Grandfather again,” Hou added, wryly. 

Hanzo absorbed that, quiet for a moment. When he next spoke, he chose his words in Cantonese very carefully. “Did I mention my brother?”

Hou shook his head. “No, only something about not listening to family elders because they’re not always right.” He tilted his head. “Did something happen to your brother?”

Hanzo looked at him with hooded eyes, his hands tensing where they rested on the table surface. “It is private.”

Hou eyed Hanzo. He laced his fingers and rested his chin on them. “Grandfather had gambling debts,” he started. “He owed the Triad a lot of money. The Triad came one night and killed his sons, his sons-in-law and my mother and little sister. Chien, myself, and our younger cousins were overseas studying at the time. Their mothers were coincidentally visiting us in America in a group. Peony, my sister, had fallen ill, so she and my mother couldn’t join the visit.” Hou was amazed at how steady his voice was.

There was a haunted look in Hanzo’s eyes. “How old was Peony?”

“Eleven. She would be sixteen by now.” Hou wished for a drink, something to loosen the tightness in his throat.

“We were all summoned home. My brother and I cleaned the dried blood from the walls and and floors. Hou then went to look for revenge while I underwent top surgery.”

“You call your brother by his family name?” Hanzo frowned.

Hou shook his head. “It is not a family name. It is a title.”

Hanzo blinked. “I thought it was a coincidence… that you were named monkey and also practiced the style.”

“The family name is Wong. Chosen family members change their name when the Monkey King Mask falls to them.”

“Ah.”

“The mask only goes to male members.”

A pause, then. “Ah.”

“The aunts still think that it was tasteless of me to undergo the surgery while we were all still in mourning. I was already presenting as male while at college. I recovered, trained, fought beside Hou. Then Justin died in battle, the Mask accepted me and I became Hou.”

Hanzo looked at him with deeply sad eyes. It was only when he reached out to wipe the tears away that Hou realised that his face was wet. Hou blinked, startled. Hanzo dropped his hand, embarrassed. He clasped his hands in front of him. There was a long silence and Hou fidgeted and considered making dinner.

“I killed my brother.”

Hou started, wondering where that broken voice came from. Then he realised it came from Hanzo. 

“Our father had died unexpectedly. The leadership of the clan fell to me. The elders of my clan decided that I needed to pull Ge-” he choked on the syllable, then recovered. “My brother into line. This was an example of my strength and hold over the clan.”

Hou continued to stare askance. Hanzo only looked into the polished woodgrain of the rosewood table. 

“We dueled, my brother and I. I slew him.”

There was silence again. Hou tried to think of what to say. He worked his jaw as Hanzo stared into the table surface, his hands tightening as they clasped each other.

“D-do you want to… spar?”

Hanzo blinked and looked at him. The tension left his shoulders.

“Yes.”

* 

They didn’t managed to get far, just half an hour of light practice. Hanzo was still hung over and sore, and the both of them hadn’t eaten all day. They broke to make dinner; all they accomplished was to work off the tension. 

Hanzo set the rice to steam in the cooker while Hou found the blender to make smoothies to tide them over. Hanzo seasoned some pork chops while the blender whirred noisily. He’d set the meat aside to season and accepted the chilled glass of… dark green liquid. 

“Must you put salad even in smoothies?”

“Spinach is good for you.” Hou sipped noisily. 

Hanzo looked at him for a long moment then smiled sadly. “Genji would have liked you.”

Hou lifted his glass in acknowledgment. “Because I’m a badass?”

“Because you are both little shits who torment me with the colour green.” He huffed softly, taking a sip. “This is good.”

“Ye of little faith,” Hou quoted in English.

Hanzo didn’t answer, but cut some vegetables to go with the meal. 

“You need help to avenge your family.”

“Yes.”

Hanzo’s hands stilled. “I, too, need help. Every year I go back to my home to honour my brother’s memory. I have never succeeded. I have made myself too weak. If you help me in this,  help me get stronger and help me reach the halls of my family so that I may offer incense to his memory… then I will help you in your quest.”

Hou considered this.

“A good deal. I accept.”

 

*

 

**2076 - Watchpoint Gibraltar**

“What are you doing?” Adrian finally turned to Genji, raising a brow. They were both still on the cliffs above the Watchpoint, comfortable in the shade.

“I’m watching you to see when you will start lying next.”

Adrian looked startled for a moment then laughed. 

“Not everything I say is a lie,” he said, chuckling. “Should I feel flattered?”

Genji shrugged, an elegant roll of his shoulders. “That was not what I meant. Things get  _ interesting _ when you lie.”

Adrian laughed again. “I suppose that’s true.” He pulled his good leg up to rest his elbow on. “Well, I’m just here to enjoy the view with a drink and a smoke. Nothing dishonest going on here.”

Genji grunted, unconvinced. Adrian pulled out his silver flask from his satchel and offered it to the cyborg. Genji tilted his head at it. “More scotch?”

“Naturally. A blue label blend. Only the best.” Genji lifted his hand in refusal.

“I do not drink these days.”

“I’m sorry.”

Genji thought he really did sound sincere. He watched Adrian as he took a swallow, mouth slightly parted to savour the taste of the liquor across his tongue, eyes hooded in pleasure. Genji leaned forward. “Do you  _ want _ things to get interesting?”

That brought Adrian’s attention back to him, dirty green eyes sparkling and keen. “Things  _ have _ been a little dull. What do you have in mind?”

Genji leaned back against the cliff face. “Nothing at the moment.” He looked at Adrian’s hand and leg. “When do your casts come off?”

Adrian shrugged. “Another week according to Dr. Ziegler and I’ve been promised full mobility by the end of the month.” He looked at Genji. “Inactivity is driving me insane.”

Genji chuckled. 

“Keep me up-to-date.” Adrian smiled.

“Also, Halloween is next week,” said Genji. “They always throw a party.”

“They?”

Genji shrugged. “I think I attended one gathering before I left Overwatch.”

“Are you attending this year’s party?”

“Angela said she’d remove my arms if I didn’t attend.”

Adrian believed the threat. “Have you a costume?”

Genji spun out a single shuriken then tossed it almost negligently at Adrian. “Yes. It’s a good one.”

Adrian snatched it out of the air, raising his brows.

“I,” Genji said with a certain amount of casual ease. “Am going as a cyborg ninja.”

Adrian let out a peal of laughter. “Bull _ shit _ !” He removed his glasses to wipe his eyes. “No way. Just, no way.” 

Genji removed his mask, revealing his grinning face. “What will you be going as?”

Adrian let out a final laugh, clutching his sides. He huffed for breath, thinking. “Okay, okay. I got this.” He sat up straight and looked Genji in the eyes. “I will be going as a serial killer. We look like everyone else.”

“No! That is awful! I love it!” Genji clutched his sides, heaving, as Adrian burst out laughing again. 

“Just wait until we tell Hanzo-san.”

There was a shared snicker as they looked over the blue sea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really apologise for Hanzo being a jerk in this chapter. He was hurt and lashing out, but that's no excuse.
> 
> Also! We're back! Hope everyone enjoyed the holidays!
> 
> It's summer here in Australia, and despite my best efforts, my writing productivity has gone down with the rising of the mercury. So I'm thinking that I'll stagger out my buffer to an update every fortnight. Hopefully I'll get back to my normal update rate when the weather eventually cools.


	5. Hey hey, we're the Monkees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks and love to EvanElric who betas for me with grabby hands. <3
> 
> And thank you to everyone who commented and who enjoy my indulgent little labour of love. <3

**2068 - Ho Chi Minh City**

It was April before Hanzo realised that two months had passed.

Hou pushed him mercilessly. Hanzo found the training arduous and painful even with his background of intense training. It seemed a never ending rotation of combat drills, unarmed and armed, cardio training, strength, resistance and agility, and back through the cycle again. The first two weeks were the hardest. 

Then it got easier. He ached less and he could keep up with Hou’s boundless energy. He didn’t collapse at the end of the day, and he could even function when he was roused out of bed for night exercises. 

After the third week, Hanzo chose a bow from Hou’s weaponry and practiced marksmanship even before Hou entered his room to kick him out of bed in the morning. 

The pull and stretch of archery was as familiar as breathing. Hanzo shot at targets in the growing light of the pre-dawn hours. At first he sent arrows at one target, over and over, keeping to a tight circle as he got used to the strain of an unfamiliar bow. Then he varied his targets, shooting near, and far, and every target in between, always hitting the bullseye. Next he varied his speed, holding arrows in his hand as he pulled to send three into the air at the same time.

He only stopped to cut out the arrows from the targets. There was impressed applause when he emptied his quiver for the fifth time, and he turned to see Hao perched on the top of a tall balance pole, clapping loudly, his eyes large and impressed.

Hanzo would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he welcomed the admiration of his new friend.

“You’re even better with that bow than my father.” 

Hanzo inclined his head modestly in a short bow. “Thank you.”

Hou vaulted off the pole to land neatly. He had a thoughtful look to his face now. “How are you at combat archery?”

“I have used the bow as my main weapon for the last year or so.”

Hou nodded. “Let’s run, and after breakfast, we’ll see what you can do with moving targets.”

Hanzo was glad to see he continued to impress Hou for the rest of the morning. He not only kept pace with the smaller man, but knew he could run farther when Hou reached his endurance. They trained again after a light breakfast and Hanzo demonstrated his ability to hit a moving target. Said moving target, Hou, was very impressed with the long shallow scratch that Hanzo landed on his leg. He called a halt and let out a low whistle. 

Hanzo doubled over, panting as he rested over his knees. “It is… difficult… to land... a hit… on you.” 

“So… That means we just have to work harder.” Hou beamed. 

Hanzo threw the bow at his head.

They focused on Hanzo’s upper body strength and he could feel his old form returning. 

It was… gratifying. It felt good to be this fit and strong again. He almost felt himself for the first time in years as his body regained its former muscular hardness. There was still a slight layer of fat but Hanzo was confidant that would melt away if he were to continue his new regime. 

He had no intention of giving up. 

Hanzo had lost a lot in his grief. Not just his strength, but also his health and dignity. He lost his own precious sense of self and now he was slowly regaining it. There was companionship here. He didn’t join Hou on his social excursions with his cousins out into town (that was too dangerous, his tattoo made him too conspicuous to the Triad who were no doubt looking for him) but he did join in the gathering of Wong cousins on their movie nights. Hanzo even found himself having a good time with a beer in hand as he watched the execrable Die Hard XXI. (The jury was out on whether John McClane was played by a resurrected Bruce Willis or an Omnic wearing a terrible face mask.)

The nightmares eased. Some nights he woke with a warm hand on his neck and he muttered an apology before drifting back to sleep. (Those nights were vastly different from the nights where his rest was interrupted because Hou wanted them to run like madmen in the darkness while avoiding obstacles and pitfalls. Those exercises were seriously annoying.)

One morning he looked himself in the mirror and wondered who this overgrown wildman was. He took a pair of scissors to the thick and dull locks and sheared them back to just under his shoulders, just enough so that he could tie a rough topknot. 

Hanzo was certain he imagined it when he heard the soft sigh of disappointment from Hou as they passed each other in the staircase. 

He hoped he did. 

He didn’t want to closely examine why that sound made his heart thump. 

Hanzo found peace in meditation again. Hou always decreed that the two hours after lunch was a time of rest. Hou, himself, didn’t care much for meditation and instead slept on the couch, his head pillowed by a plush and fluffy cushion in the shape of a hamburger. The fan spun gently overhead as Hanzo dropped into seiza position and rested his mind as his body cooled from the morning’s exertions. 

Whomever was up first would prepare a small snack to share before they returned to training in the mid-afternoon. 

Hanzo managed to emerge from his meditations before Hou rose from his nap. Instead of rising from his kneeling position, he stayed there with his hands palms down on his lap, and clandestinely studied Hou from under his lashes. 

He lied to himself that he was studying an ally for his strengths and weaknesses. 

Hanzo wasn’t very good at lying to himself. 

Eventually he rose to his feet, but not before he noticed the slight flutter in Hou’s own eyelids. 

He prepared fruit smoothies for the both of them, the sound of the blender giving Hou the ability to save face by pretending it was the noise of the blender that woke him.

They worked on agility in the afternoon, and in the evening, hand to hand again. Chien and the other Wong cousins generally joined in. Most of them had varying degrees of martial arts ability. Hanzo was not familiar with kung fu but a punch was a punch and a kick was a kick. Out of those gathered, he used his full strength only on Hou and Chien, and the latter only once because he requested it. 

“Careful, cousin. He hits like a truck.”

“I am sorry you are made of weak stuff, cousin!”

Hanzo chuckled softly at this familiar back and forth.

Then he struck past Chien’s block and hit him in the shoulder.

Chien went down.

“What are you made off??! He hits like a  _ train _ !”

Hou was the sympathetic cousin who clutched his sides as he howled with laughter.

Life… was good.

He smiled at Hou as he bent to help Chien to his fee, and Hou smiled back. 

Life was very good.

May loomed. For the first time in two years, he was ready, and when he nearly landed an arrow into Hou’s arm as he was wearing the Mask, his ally agreed.

 

******

 

**2068 - Hanamura - 5th May**

Genji crouched under the eaves of a roof, sheltering from the gentle spray of the spring rain. He could see much of the roofscape of Hanamura through to the castle from this modest vantage point. The blooming sakura were pale patches in the gloom, and the damp koinobori flapped listlessly from the flagpoles. 

Genji was statue-like, inhumanly still, on his perch. 

His outer calm belied the agitation that bubbled beneath his synth-muscle.

He wondered who else on the team knew the significance of the day. Reyes knew. He felt the Blackwatch commander’s eyes on him earlier, trying to gauge his mental and emotional stability. Mercy definitely knew, he could see it when she talked to him earlier. He was sure McCree didn’t know. McCree had been deep in intelligence gathering and had picked up the rumour that someone or someones would make an incursion on the castle. That and the fact that  _ somebody _ was assassinating clan elders made sure that security was heightened for the night. McCree had not been able to pick up a name, even though he was certain that everyone knew who it would be.

Genji hoped against hope.

_ Brother. _

He didn’t know how he would react upon seeing his brother for the first time. 

( _ His hand wrapped around the hilt of his wakizashi. _ )

He hoped it was him. 

He had something to discuss with Hanzo.

His comm pinged in his audio receptors. “You all right there, partner?”

He answered McCree. “Yes. Why would I not be?”

“I dunno, partner. You seem all quiet today.”

Genji considered an appropriate answer. “This is the first time I am back in my home town. It is normal if I am pensive.”

“Right you are, partner.” Nothing could disguise the dubious quality in McCree’s voice.

“Clear the chatter,” came Reyes’ voice. 

Then there was nothing but the silence in Genji’s head. It shared space with the burning anger that hid in his heart and actions, that struck out at the elders that demanded his death. He had expected to find his brother amongst them, living it up, fat as a worm.

Hanzo was not where he expected him to be. McCree’s intelligence had not been able to locate Hanzo in Japan, let alone in Hanamura. For all intents and purposes, the heir of the Shimada clan had abandoned his post. Genji wondered about that, but he knew that if Hanzo would be anywhere in the world on this night, he’d be here, in the home of their ancestors. 

_ Brother, why. _

Genji knew why. He just still couldn’t believe that Hanzo actually  _ murdered _ him. His own brother.  _ His own brother _ .

( _ His grip on his sword tightened. _ )

Yes, he hoped that Hanzo would come tonight. Then he would show his brother how their last encounter had changed him. 

His comm buzzed again with McCree on the other end. “I’m seeing some activity on the main gate.”

Genji stirred.

Reyes answered. “What do you see?”

“Seems to me like someone dropped a hornet’s nest among them. They’re real excited about something.”

“What are they doing?”

“They’re scrambling around, guns out and shining lights all all over.”

Genji could see the beams of high voltage torches as they lit up parts of the castle.

“Can’t quite see what’s got them all exci- _ HO DAMN BOY, GENJI. LOOK AT YOU MOVE! _ ”

“McCree! Just what the hell is going on over there?”

“I have not shifted from my position, McCree.”

“Then who’s that over there!”

“McCree.”

“Sorry,  _ jefe _ . I can’t get a good visual, whatever that is, it’s too quick. I’m seeing flashes of black and metal and…” A pause over the line. “Aw fuck.” A strange noise was coming over the line, interspersed with the sounds of panic and gunfire. 

“Are those… are they being attacked by a troop of monkeys?” Genji unfolded himself from under the window to climb to the roof.

“McCree?” There was a note of concern from Reyes.

“Sorry, sorry, just getting out of the way.  _ Jefe _ , I think that was a-” Another pause. “Genji, the bogie’s heading in your direction.”

“Genji, do not engage.”

“Acknowledged.” He was just going to observe. Genji ghosted over the rooftops, his cybernetic agility launching him high into the sky and then landing with a surefootedness he could only have dreamed about two years ago.

(He had different dreams then.)

Genji followed the sounds of fighting, of gunfire and the startled yells of men and women. He found them in a dark alley, desperately fending off an attacker that was too fast, too agile,  _ too much _ . 

They emptied their clips into shadows, then were caught off guard as something from the darkness leapt out and struck with wide and controlled movements. Their attacker made them look like novices but Genji knew the clan’s guards were highly trained in close combat. 

There were screams from the guards. There were the screeches from their attacker.

Genji watched as an experienced warrior systematically deconstruct the clan’s enforcers. 

Then, when all were a groaning pile at the warrior’s feet, he looked up straight at Genji’s spot.

Genji dropped to the ground, landing nimbly and with precise movement. 

*

Hanzo watched as the guards were lured away by Hou. He kept to the shadows, sneaking on soft feet. He cast his eyes to the corners of eaves deep shadows, places where security cameras would be best placed. Little had changed since he left but he was still cautious. He waited in his dark corner for a heartbeat, but there was no one in the courtyard before him. He crouched low as he ran from shadow to shadow. There were excited yells over the walls of the castle, but things were as still as a tomb within. 

He made his way deeper into the castle grounds, the dojo where he respectfully left his sword.

_ His sword. _

Hanzo slowed his steps as he entered the dojo. 

His sword was still there.

A slow exhale escaped from his lips. 

The blade was as polished as the day he left, the edge sharpened to a point where the very air was sliced in twain. 

The deep notch in the blade was still there. 

Hanzo took a deep breath and approached like a supplicant.

_ Genji _ .

*

The other warrior stood still, arms by his sides. He stood in an open stance, facing Genji in the full. To Genji’s surprise, the warrior was much shorter than him. He had a slight build and his musculature was wiry and heavily defined. He was barechested and wore loose trousers that were tucked into white socks, and soft-soled cloth shoes protected his feet. There were a pair of dao swords strapped to his back. There was a mask on his face, his augmented vision picking out the characteristics of the Monkey King. It looked little more than a cheap mask that a circus performer would wear.

“Who are you?” Genji couldn’t help the tone of awe in his voice. 

The Monkey warrior tilted his head. That was when Genji realised he’d fallen back on his native tongue in surprise. He repeated the question in English, and hoped he didn’t have to use his little utilised Cantonese. 

The warrior chittered amusedly then flipped backwards into the darkness. Genji sped after him, ignoring the pained moans of the Yakuza guards. The Monkey warrior switched to moving on all fours, then nimbly climbed a wall with speed and agility that Genji thought was impossible for an unaugmented human.

Genji followed, nonetheless, equally as agile and quick. This amused the Monkey warrior again and he ran and launched himself across to the next building, and then the next again. Genji chased after. It was only when a minute later that he realised that he was being led away from the castle.

He stopped and activated his comm. “McCree, doubleback on the castle. I have been lured away.”

“Goddamn, partner! Reyes said not to engage the Monkey.”

“Wait, you knew-” Genji looked looked up when a scattering of small hard pebbles bounced off his armour.  _ “Did you just throw stones at me?!” _

The Monkey screeched and disappeared over the edge of the building. Genji rushed after, diving over the side and landing on the cobbled yard below. He ignored the voice in his ear as he scanned the still yard. There were trees, ornamental sakura and more practical ume. It was still too soon for the apricots and plums to be ripe and they would be green on the branches. 

Genji was the only being in that little garden. The Monkey must have moved on.

Then a rustle in one of the trees caught his attention and he watched as the slight figure hung from his knees from an ume tree. 

“Gah, these are still hard and sour.” The words were English and the accent was American-tinged Vietnamese, if Genji guessed correctly. The mask was askew and Genji was surprised to see a young, half hidden face stare back at him. Only one eye, part of his nose and his mouth were visible, but that was enough for Genji to gauge the warrior’s age as in his mid-twenties. He grinned at Genji. “Pity, yeah? Playing is hard work.”

“Ume aren’t ready until June,” Genji started, slightly nonplussed by events. 

“That explains it.” The warrior knocked his mask back into place and pulled himself upwards into the tree. Genji started to approach then yelled as something small and hard flew out at him. 

The Monkey snickered and threw more fruit at Genji.

“Stop! Stop!” He was getting seriously annoyed. He rushed the tree and the Monkey leapt out, spinning in the air. He landed in a roll and was about to jump to clear the wall separating the next garden when Genji flung out a handful of shuriken at the top of the wall. The Monkey halted his movement in mid air, spinning around and landing neatly in a crouch. 

“Weapons, my metal friend? I thought we were just playing.” The echo of a laugh accompanied those words as he rose to his full height.

“Why are you leading me away? What are you hiding?”

The warrior spread his arms. “In this outfit?”

Genji growled in irritation, the sound distorted by his mask. “No. Why are you leading me away from Shimada Castle?” 

“What’s it to you? Are you some kinda otaku omnic? Have you got a fascination for ancient structures and their visitors?” Monkey moved to a comical position, balancing on the tip of one toe, one foot against his knee and his hands up in a confused shrug. 

“Answer the question!” 

Monkey placed a finger on his chin, looking up at the cloudy night sky as he scratched his head in a thoughtful manner.

“No.”

Then he bounced away on all fours, screeching. 

Genji swore heatedly and followed after. His earlier awe had been replaced with growing annoyance. He followed after in the narrow gap between houses and out into the main street. They were far away enough from the castle that they were in the suburban part of Hanamura. The streets were quiet and families slept in their homes despite the antics of Overwatch cyborgs and mysterious monkey men. Genji stopped to listen. There was no chittering, no startled screeching, only the soft whirr of his own mechanics as he made minute shifts to his balance. 

Then his augmented hearing picked it up. It was a soft slurping noise in the next two gardens over, he estimated. Genji launched up and sailed into the night sky, landing in soft grass, wakizashi out. 

Monkey looked up, startled. He was crouched in a garden bed, his mask askew again, a melon in his hands. It was broken open and he was slurping from one half, juice dribbling down his chin. He stared at Genji . 

Genji stared back. 

Monkey slurped loudly. 

Genji growled. “Stop stealing people’s fru-”

The two halves of the melon hit him in the metal mask with a shrill shriek from the monkey practitioner. 

“I will destroy you!” Genji angrily swiped the fruity flesh from his visor, but when he looked up, Monkey had disappeared. He flung the tattered remnants of melon rind to ground and leapt the dividing wall to the next garden. Again, silence, bar the clicking of lights in the house behind him. 

“Genji, come in.” It was McCree on the comm. “What’s your status?”

Genji swore a blue streak.

“Yeah, that’s about right. Come on back to base, Reyes says we’re done for the night.”

“But the Monkey is still out here!”

“He’s not a priority.” 

Genji swore again. He glared at the wakening houses, the peaceful gardens and the gracefully blooming sakura trees. He made a derisive sound, but it was unclear to whom he aimed that expression. Then he left, a stream of neon green light streaking behind him. 

*

Hou waited a moment before lifting his head. He waited another moment then eased himself from under the leafy bush. He perched near the shrub, both hands and feet touching the ground, and he idly lifted his leg to scratch the back of his head with his foot. A sound made him pause and make a questioning chitter. A night bird flew overhead, the lights in the next house over switched off, and all was quiet again. When he was absolutely certain that there was no humourless and homicidal omnic around to follow, Hou scampered away. 

He took a roundabout route to the rendezvous point, a park from which the lights of the castle can be seen at night. Once there, he dropped into the shadow of the hovercar and accepted the bottle of water from his companion. He studied Hanzo’s profile as he sat in seiza position, as he himself dropped to sit cross legged. He pushed the Monkey King mask up the top of his head and drank from the bottle. For the first time since they met, Hanzo seemed at peace. He looked upon the lit profile of his ancestral home with an almost gentle gaze. 

“Had a good night?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Hanzo’s mouth. “Yes, I did. I have paid honour to my brother’s memory. And you?” He looked at Hou and reached up to gently wipe the corner of his mouth. Hou chuckled. 

“Yeah, I had a good night. I beat up a bunch of gangsters, I lead away a ninja omnic from the castle, and I threw fruit at him. Pretty sure he didn’t have a humour subroutine because he was  _ annoyed _ .”

Hanzo chuckled. “I cannot imagine why.”

“All in all, it was a pretty good date night.” Hou grinned cheekily, but thought he’d overstepped when Hanzo turned to him, the small smile wiped from his face. “Sorry, it was a j-”

Hou trailed off as Hanzo slowly moved his head in close to his. They shared breath, their noses almost touching. Hou felt his breathing grow short as he stared into Hanzo’s eyes. He wasn’t sure who made the first move because they were suddenly together, lips gently exploring. It was almost chaste, if not for a slight bit of tongue, and it was certainly sweeter than Hou expected from the larger man. They parted after a moment, leaning against each other, Hanzo’s fingers feathering on his high cheekbones. Then Hou shivered, the Spring night chill on his cooling skin. Hanzo easily hauled him onto his lap. 

“Hey,” Hou chuckled in protest. “Just because I’m smaller…” He reached up to save his mask from being jostled.

Hanzo paid him no mind as he wrapped his thick arms around him. “Thank you,” Hou heard Hanzo say into his sweat spiked hair. 

“For the kiss…?” 

“For everything.”

Hou wiggled to get more comfortable, enjoying Hanzo’s body heat. “Then don’t thank me yet. This is just the beginning.”

Hanzo didn’t reply, but his sigh was content and happy.

*

Genji was furious. He could see that the amusement in his teammates eyes and that only fanned the flames. 

“So…” said Reyes. “Only fruit? 

Genji stood, vibrating with emotion. “ _ Yes. _ ”

“Ah. Good. What did this Monkey look like? We encountered one a few years back that didn’t stop at fruit.”

Genji frowned under his mask. “Short. Shorter than me. Very agile and flexible. Mischievous and clever.”

Reyes nodded. “Definitely a different Monkey warrior. The other one we encountered was violent and vicious and around your height. McCree, take Genji out back and help clean him off. Debrief him on the castle situation.”

“Right you are,  _ jefe _ .”

Genji followed McCree more out of a need to know about the “castle situation” than a need to be clean. “What did Commander Reyes mean?”

He stepped out the back door after McCree and waited patiently as the gunslinger got the hose out. “Sorry, partner, this is gonna be cold.” 

Genji shrugged. “It does not matter.” He endured the spray even though Jesse was gentle about it. 

“There was an intruder up at the castle. But don’t get excited none! Whoever they were, they avoided surveillance and security.”

Genji watched as stray bits of fruit were sluiced off his armour. “What did they do?”

“We tracked ‘em to the dojo and that was that. We don’t know what they did there, how long they were there or when they left.”

“I think it was-”

“Yeah, buddy. Could very well be your brother. Could be that he’s also working with the Monkey.”

Genji considered this, considered his serious brother partnering with the playful Monkey. “I don’t know what that means.”

“I hear ya, buddy. I hear ya.”

 

*****

 

**2068 - San Francisco - A week later**

Hanzo looked around Hou’s loft. It was a far cry from the tomb-like family home in Vietnam. It was modern and comfortable, a two bedroom affair with a view over the bay. He dropped his one bag on the leather sofa, pulling one of Hou’s bags after him. Hou stood in the foyer still, rubbing his face. 

“We need… to get you a proper modern combat bow. Proper clothes. Armour.” He blinked into his hands. “I need to find out when my partner is getting out of school and I need to arrange to work in New York.”

Hanzo blinked slowly. They had switched to English to better accustom themselves to blending locally. “Pardon me? Your partner is in school?” Perhaps he had misunderstood, his English was little utilized in the last few years. “Is your partner perhaps a teacher?”

Hou blinked, thinking back on what he said. “Ah. Ah. Well. He’s in schools yes.”

“Matthew.”

Hou shifted. “Sorry. I didn’t want you think I was working with a school boy.”

Hanzo raised a skeptical brow.

“Can we talk about this after some sleep?” Hou begged, eyes red with fatigue. 

Hanzo was tempted to just extract the truth of the situation out right then and there but he acquiesced with a nod. Hou moved to wheel his case into one of the rooms but paused. “Ah. That’s Justin’s old room,” he named his brother. “He’s obviously not using it anymore. Um.” He blinked at Hanzo, having lost his train of thought.

Hanzo crossed his arms, enjoying Hou’s confusion.

“You can use it?” Hou squinted. “If you like. Or. Y’know.” He shuffled. “Youcancomesleepwithme.”

“I am not sure that you are coherent enough for sex.”

Hanzo enjoyed Hou’s flushed features.

“No! I mean!” Hou dragged his fingers down his face. “Sleep beside me. On the bed. My bed.”

It would be the first time. They kept separate beds even after that first kiss in Hanamura. There were several more kisses since then. Hanzo moved to add another to that count, lightly tilting Hou’s face up brush his lips against his. There was the temptation to deepen the kiss, but they were both exhausted from the long flight, even if Hou was showing it more. “I’ll share your bed.” 

Hou’s smile was bright and happy, and later, Hou’s smaller body was warm and solid in his arms as he was tucked under Hanzo’s chin and he was immediately asleep as soon as his head was cradled on Hanzo’s chest. They’d unpacked enough only to pull out sleep clothes and weapons. Knives went under pillows, and Hou showed him the pistols in the bedside units. Hanzo was under the impression there were more weapons hidden around the apartment.

Knowing Matthew, Hanzo figured there would be more weapons than food in the whole apartment. He tucked the coverlet high over Hou’s shoulders and folded his arm behind his head, itemising the gear he would need. They had gotten the basics for the Hanamura incursion, but Hou was right, Hanzo was severely underequipped At the same time, it rubbed Hanzo the wrong way that Hou was paying for much of his upkeep.There was the Triad gold and cash that Hanzo had taken from the warehouse in Ho Chi Minh city, but Hou had refused to take  _ that _ money. 

Hanzo thought about the millions in Shimada wealth that were mouldering in his Swiss accounts. Using Yakuza money to fund activities to take down Triad gangsters sounded like an appropriate use of his fortune.

Hou’s watch ticked in the silence of the room. Hou was drooling on his chest. Sleep was long in coming. Finally, Hanzo gently lifted Hou from his chest and slipped out of bed, his active mind was not willing to rest. He went to the kitchen, not expecting much in the fridge. It was empty bar a few condiment bottles and jars. The freezer had a few bags of peas and nothing else.

Hanzo closed the door, not up to dealing with that right now. The pantry was better stocked than he hoped. There was canned meat, vegetables, and fruit. There was also the ubiquitous instant noodle collection and several sealed containers of protein powder and long-life milk.

Checking the scant supplies in the bathroom, Hanzo decided to go shopping. 

He changed into street clothes and extracted some cash from Hou’s wallet. He wrote a note just in case the smaller man woke before he came back. Then he paused, trying to think of a common language to write in. Hou would not understand his instinctual Japanese, and Hanzo’s written Chinese was ill-practiced. It wouldn’t do to confuse Chinese hanzi with Japanese kanji. He settled on English and wrote in his neat print. Checking Hou’s phone, he saw there was a small supermarket nearby and memorized the route. Going to the door, he paused, arrested by the possibility of walking out into the open without Hou by his side. It occurred to Hanzo that he was rarely out of Matthew’s company in the last few months.

Hanzo swallowed. He was fit, strong and skillful. He had a gun in his waistband, covered by shirt and jacket. He was safe. He could go get some bread, eggs and toilet paper without having a breakdown.

*

Hou woke to the smell of cooking American bacon. The sweet, smoked flavours wafted through the apartment. He crawled out of bed, drooling. Hanzo was in the kitchen, sleeves folded to the elbows, and he was tending to an omelette. Hou perched on the stool at the kitchen counter and looked on hopefully. 

“I think I’ll keep you.”

Hanzo turned, surprised.

Hou beamed, snagging a banana from the bunch that Hanzo had thoughtfully added to his purchase.

“You can buy groceries and cook.” Hou nodded, taking a bite. “I’ll keep you.”

Hanzo huffed, ducking his head, caught between embarrassment and amusement. 

“I forgot the toilet paper. There is only one roll in the bathroom.”

Hou waved his hand. “We can do a larger shop later.” 

Hanzo slide the omelette onto a waiting plate. There was another beside the stove top and he brought both to the counter along with two mugs of tea.

“Now. About your schoolboy partner…”

Hou picked up a strip of bacon and bit down. He chewed thoughtfully. “What do you know about Richard St. James?”

Hanzo tilted his head, not expecting the question. “The Monster of New York?”

“Ahh… He’s called the Gentleman of New York now.”

“My father had met him a few times.” Hanzo pursed his lips. “He said that Richard St. James was a dangerous man. The most dangerous type of criminal. The… hobbyist who does not fear consequence and only acts out of a selfish desire to be amused.”

“Yes….that’s my impression of St. James.” Hou exhaled slowly. “His son is different.”

Hanzo looked at him.

“I met Richard last year. He was sixteen. He said he was set a task to hunt a Triad leader. I was hunting the same man. He was involved in my family’s massacre. I slipped up, they recognised me and Richard came by and beat one of them up with his metal skateboard.”

Hanzo stared, unblinking.

“Oh c’mon. When was your first assignment?”

“I was not given solo assignments until I was eighteen.”

“Well… You were raised to be a gang boss, right? Richard was trained to be a solo ambush hunter. He told me his first unassisted kill was the year before.”

Hanzo picked up his mug and blew gently across the steaming surface. “I am trying to understand from the words you are not speaking. You are saying that the son of the Monster is raised to be not an assassin but as a predator. A hunter. A murderer. And that you are working with this perversion of nature.” 

“Okay, that sounds bad, but Richard is more than his training. He doesn’t take pleasure in the kill, but in the competent skill he uses. He’s more…” Hou waved his fork around. “Unemotional when he kills. Like he’s been inured to the act.”

“That does not reassure me.”

“I feel sorry for the kid.” Hou shrugged. “He really doesn’t have a choice.”

Hanzo considered this, silent for a while as he digested this thought. “He is seventeen? Yes, I remember being seventeen and living for the clan. If you are his friend then he is lucky to have you.” His hand came down upon Hou’s, which was sneaking towards his plate to steal a strip of bacon. He didn’t let go when Hou tugged lightly, but smirked softly at him. He set down the mug of tea and lifted a strip of bacon from his plate and held up to Hou’s mouth. Matthew grinned and took a big bite, his white teeth bared in a grin. 

“Are you tired? Let’s go out. I’ll show you around town.”

They talked more as they wandered the streets. As they walked down the Embarcadero and Hanzo rested his eyes on the famous seals, he nodded quietly to himself. “I think I have a better picture of the situation.” 

Hou leaned lightly against him. “We only have a little time to prepare before he’s out of school for the year, and then only two months before he heads back. I want to be in New York within the fortnight so that’ll give us at least two weeks for surveillance work. Our New York season will be over when Richard’s back at school and from there… We follow where the trails lead us.” He paused as Hanzo’s arm went around him. “This is not revenge,” said Hou, more to himself than Hanzo. “This is justice. Revenge is blind and angry. Justice is patient.” He paused, lifting his face to Hanzo. 

Hanzo kissed his brow. “I have been without purpose for the last two years. It pleases me to make your purpose mine.”

Hou frowned. “And what of your ambitions and wants?”

Hanzo looked at Hou and smiled. “When I need something, I will discuss it with you. For now, I am happy with what I have.” He brushed the back of his fingers against Hou’s face.

Hou grinned. “We should have a proper date.”

Hanzo chuckled, tucking the smaller man in closer.

 

*****

 

**2078 - Watchpoint: Gibraltar**

Adrian felt ridiculous. His hair was still too long, his suit hung unforgivably off his frame, and worse, the splint was making his pant leg look lopsided. He sighed, looking down at himself. 

“Seriously, oppa, it’s not that bad.” 

“I feel like a kid playing dress up.”

“It’s not as if Winston doesn’t know what you look like.”

Adrian began to take off his jacket. “This isn’t about his perception of me, but of mine that I can project onto him… and I feel like an underfed bum.”

Hana made a rude noise. He draped the jacket on the back of the chair then sat on the bed beside Hana. Their splintered and cast legs stuck out awkwardly. 

“Okay, what do you need?”

Adrian ran a hand through his hair. “I feel shaggy. I need to see if Mother packed my spare clippers.” They looked at the three large suitcases that Adrian's mother sent down. There had been a fourth, but that had been filled with weapons and it was decided it would be much more at home in the armoury. 

“How about we style your hair instead? Bit of wax and a bit of gel and we can slick your hair back a bit.” Hana plucked at his blond locks. “It’s not bad, a little overgrown.” She grabbed his chin and examined his shave job. “Hmm. You missed a spot.” 

“Okay, this strangely makes me feel better.”

“Of course it does!” Hana grinned. “You got this.” 

“Okay. Good.” He exhaled slowly and flashed her a grin. 

Hana narrowed her eyes, peering into his face. 

“I am! It is!” 

“You had better do well.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hana nodded, reaching for her crutches. “And you’re going to sleep early and not watch my stream tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hana gave him a stern look and limped away. Adrian kicked off his dress shoes and lay back on his bed, reaching for his headphones. Genji crawling through his window halted him. Adrian blinked in surprise. 

“Yes?” asked Adrian.

And at the same time, Genji spoke.

“I have a movie, watch it with me.”

Adrian considered this. Genji waited.

“I can do that. I have the night free. My tablet is there.” Adrian pointed, sitting up on the bunk and making room for the cyborg. Adrian unlocked the screen and handed the heavy computer back for Genji to queue the movie. 

Hanzo found them later with the room light still on, the tablet dark and two heads cradled against each other. 

He raised a brow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Australian summer still continues to effect my output, but the good news is that I'm managing a chapter a fortnight, so no worries there. We've got another month of high temps before the cooler the mercury drops but don't worry, updates will continue.


	6. The Family You Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Hanzo and Hou are in America, they prepare for their bloody mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Evanelric, patient beta and the friend who suffers from my "wit". ;)
> 
> Chapter tags: m/ftm sex scene, past rape- implied

**2068 - San Francisco**

This was not Hanzo’s first trip to the States, but it was his first trip to San Francisco and the first where he was free of bodyguards and family responsibility. It was nice to wake in bed and gently rub Hou’s back until he too gradually woke. This soft awakening gave way to a day filled with activity. Hou had many contacts in the city. There were gyms, dojos and weapon ranges where they trained on a daily basis, and then after, there were meetings that they conducted to organise weapons and other combat gear for Hanzo.

Hanzo had a few ideas on the type of combat bow that he required. After talking to a few specialists around San Francisco, he and Hou left the city to travel to Sacramento in a rented hovercar. Hanzo eyed Hou’s profile as he drove, not even hiding as he admired his… lover? Hou noticed and quirked a smile. 

“Don’t distract me. I don’t drive often.”

“I am just looking,” Hanzo protested.

“I swear, if you’re making faces at me…”

“I am just admiring.”

Hou’s face grew red and his eyes darted sideways. 

“Eyes on the road.”

“Heh. Smart ass.”

Hanzo allowed himself a smirk. He let his eyes drift to the passing scenery. 

“So… ahh… are we going to talk about sex?”

Hanzo considered this. “Now? Is that not illegal?”

“No! Not  _ have _ sex, I mean-” Hou glanced at him then snorted. “Jerk.”

Hanzo allowed some time to organise his own thoughts. 

“I… would like to have sex with you.” 

Another side glance. The flush deepened.

“But... “ Hanzo worked his jaw, trying to find his words in English. “I am… trying to not approach what we have casually.”

“You don’t wish a one night stand?”

“No.”

“All right.”

“I have more I wish to say but I… do not want to do so while we’re driving like this.” 

“All right…” 

Hanzo rubbed his hands on his trouser legs. “It is important I get the words right. I don’t wish to give… to say… I don’t want you to think that I am rejecting you.” It was getting stuffy in the car despite the AC on full. 

“Hey, hey,” Hou reached out with one hand to grab his, squeezing lightly. “I don’t think that. I’m fine with taking things slow, okay? And you’re right, we should talk when I’m not driving.”

Hanzo squeezed Matthew’s hand back. 

“Hey, choose a station. I’m good with all music.” 

Making a thoughtful hum, Hanzo let Hou’s hand go to set the car radio to scan for channels. He skipped past stations that were playing pop or rock and finally settled on a channel playing classical music. 

“Nerd.” 

“Heh. I find classical to be soothing.”

“I wouldn’t know. I played the trumpet in school.”

Hanzo winced.

“Played it loud and obnoxiously.” Hou grinned. “Until mom said I didn’t have to learn it anymore.”

Hanzo made a noise that was suspiciously like an amused snort. He covered his mouth with his hand.

“But I still didn’t stop. I told everyone I loved playing and wanted to go professional.”

“Matthew, no.”

“Matthew, yes. I think it was a year before anybody caught on that I  _ wasn’t actually learning my scores _ .”

Hanzo’s shoulders started to shake.

“It gets better.”

“H-how?” Hanzo wondered.

“Mom made me go practice outside the house.” Hou smiled beatifically. “Out in the yard where I could highly annoy all the uncles playing chess under the trees.”

This time Hanzo definitely snorted and Hou’s grin widened.

“How old were you?” 

“Hnn...Twelve or thirteen. Yeah. Around the time Justin was sent Stateside to study. What about you? What did you learn? Something traditional?”

“Ah, no. I had piano lessons until I had to focus more on clan duties.” He tapped the back of his fingers against the window. “Your brother, Justin. What was he like?”

Hou poked his tongue into his cheek. “A better Monkey than me. He was four years older than me, and he was  _ born _ to it, you know? A male born in the year of the Monkey. It was perfect, just what everybody wanted. He made a really aggressive Monkey… especially in the last few years. Even his primary weapon was a staff.”

Hanzo started. “Genji… Genji was also a monkey.” 

Hou flicked his eyes sideways. “Twenty forty?”

“No, twenty forty-one. January.” He looked at his hands. “I am sorry. I did not expect this conversation to bring him up.”

“I don’t mind hearing about Genji if you want to talk about him.”

“I… am not ready.”

Hou nodded. “I understand.” They drove in silence for a while listening to Beethoven on the radio when Hou saw a familiar sign up ahead. “Hey, let’s stop for a burger.” 

Hanzo barely had time to state his opinion when Hou pulled off the freeway. They sat later on the hood of the car in the parking lot, enormous burgers in their hands and fries and drinks on the hood between them. Leafy trees shaded them from the overhead sun. Hanzo sipped his soda, looking at the sun winking down through the leafy canopy.

He looked at Hou with some amusement. The smaller man was holding his burger with both hands where Hanzo was holding his burger with just one. Hou was doing his best to fit the double pattie burger into his mouth but could only manage with untidy chomps into the side of the burger. Sauce and the juices from the meat collected in the paper wrapper and Hou was trying his best to not make a mess. 

Hanzo wondered, not for the first time, if he were merely taking advantage of the sanctuary that Hou afforded and that was the source of his feelings for the short warrior. Hanzo could not recall a time when he had felt so at peace with himself. He was finally free of responsibility and fear and he could just… exist. He realised that he could be just plain Hanzo for the first time in his life. 

That thought brought both a sense of liberation and a deep knot in his gut.

Yes, he was free, but did he deserve it?

Genji would have loved this, just eating under a tree with a friend. 

He loved America, Hanzo recalled. He loved it when they travelled when they were younger. He would have liked Hou. Hanzo would have liked to have seen them match their boundless energy against each other. Hou was every bit their martial equal even without the mask. They would have been stunning to see.

Hanzo looked at the burger in his hand. 

“I have done nothing to deserve any of this.”

Hou made a sound. He glanced at him and found that Hou was choking on a mouthful of burger. He spat it onto the grass.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Hanzo closed his eyes briefly. “No. I am sorry. I should not have said anything.”

“No, I heard what you said. What did you mean by it?”

The Japanese man gestured helplessly. “I am a wretch who killed his brother. I don’t deserve this. Friendship. Happiness. You.”

Hou narrowed his eyes. “Are you sorry for what you have done?”

“Yes. Of course I am.”

“Then you need to live your life worthy of the one you wronged. Live it fully and keep the memory of your brother alive. Honour his death by living a worthy life.”

Hanzo shook his head slightly, closing his eyes again.

“Grandfather dishonours his family by being a drunk.” The censure was like razor wire in Hou’s voice. “Justin never forgave him… And I don’t blame him. Grandfather prefers to lose his memories in drink. He wastes what’s left of his life when he could be taking care of the family that remains. I tolerate the old man, but you’ve noticed we don’t see eye to eye on what I consider to be important details.”

Hanzo digested this, his eyes cast downwards at his shoes. They were a nice pair, bought with some of the money taken from the Triad warehouse where he had been caged. He’d given the rest away to local charities in Ho Chi Minh City after deciding he didn’t need another gang’s blood money when he had his own overseas accounts.

“In the first year after I left Japan,” he said, finally, his voice gone hoarse and rough as if rusty from years of disuse. “I sought to lose myself anyway I could. I fought in pits to survive, and I fucked anybody who was willing. I drank and I did drugs. I am a disgrace to my ancestors, to the memory of my brother, to my dragons.”

A hand on his elbow made him look up. Hou was looking at him with gentle eyes. 

“We don’t move mountains in a day,” he said. “We move it one bucket at a time.”

Hanzo swallowed with a dry throat. “And when the mountain is gone?”

Hou shrugged. “We plant a forest, one seedling at a time.”

Hanzo closed his eyes. “You have done so much for me. I don’t know if I can ever repay you.”

“Just… be my friend.”

He let out a small huff and smiled. “I will try my best.”

Hou smiled back then frowned. “What did you mean by dragons?”

*

Hou screamed, clutching his head.

Hanzo lowered his bow, unable to contain his smirk.

Hou screamed again.

“Dragons! Look at those dragons! You shot out dragons!  _ Motherfucking dragons! _ ” Then he lapsed into Vietnamese, tugging at Hanzo’s sleeve and pointing excitedly at Hanzo’s arm and at the disappearing dragons. He pulled down Hanzo’s collar to look intently at his tattoo, as if expecting the ink to have disappeared with the dragons.

“Oh my fucking god! That was awesome!” 

Hanzo laughed as Hou began push up his sleeve to get a better look at the rest of the tattoo. “It is all there, I promise you.” He tucked the smaller man snug against him. Hanzo could feel Hou’s rapid heartbeat against his chest. 

They were at the edge of a field, their car parked not very far back on the side of the road. They were driving back from Sacramento when Hanzo suggested the detour. The trip to the bowyer was partially successful. The man didn’t have what Hanzo needed, but after some discussion was confident he could make it. In the meantime, there were several other models in stock that would do temporarily. The bow he eventually chose was a recurve made out of laminated graphite. It was light and strong, but its lack of heft meant he was vulnerable at close range. This was something that he sought to correct in his future weapon.

Hanzo thought with brief longing of the bow he had left behind in Hanamura, all those years ago. That bow suited his needs, but like the sword he had also left behind, it was a part of his old life, and there was nothing for him back there.

Not when his future was flush against his chest, chattering animatedly, all curious excitement. Hou’s eyes were bright and his grin huge.

Hanzo couldn’t help but kiss him.

Hou made a sort of surprised, strangled noise but he quickly recovered and pressed upwards to Hanzo’s open-mouthed kiss. They spent a breathless moment exploring with lips and tongue and they parted with a soft sound. Hou’s brown eyes had darkened and his breathing was rapid. Hanzo knew that he wasn’t in any better condition. Hou lifted his head again and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then stepped back, showing much better self control than Hanzo had. He kept his hand in Hanzo’s grip, though, almost shyly.

“Okay, that was a good way of getting me to calm down, but geeze,” he grinned ruefully at Hanzo. “I sure wish we weren’t an hour out from home.”

Hanzo laughed back, softly and equally regretfully. “Then… we should make a start.”

“I don’t know if I want to jump you or talk more about  _ those awesome dragons _ !”

“We can talk about the dragons on the drive back.”

Hou was already racing for the driver’s seat of the car. He wasted no time with the questions as soon as they were back on the interstate. He was all burning innocent curiosity and excitement that was almost childlike.

“So! Dragons! Tell!”

“They are the symbol of my family, spirit creatures who come to worthy members of my bloodline. It is a privilege of the Shimada, but not a right. They work differently for each individual. Mine roar across the land when summoned, as you have seen. I was able to summon them when I was sixteen, and even then, only after long study and meditation.”

“You’re like me,” breathed Hou. “Warriors of ancient mythical lineage. Richard had said there more like us around. I kinda believed him, but not really, but here you are!” He licked his lips. “You summon dragons! That is so unbelievably cool.  _ You’re _ unbelievably cool. That’s what you did with the safe in the warehouse! Oh my god you’re so amazing!”

Hanzo watched with some concern as the vehicle swerved on the road. “You should put the auto-drive on.”

“I’m good!” Hou was almost vibrating with excitement. Hanzo was having trouble resisting the urge to pull the smaller man into his lap. “Dragons,” Hou whispered again.

“And you are able to clear the roof of a low building in a single jump. You are amazing, too.” Hanzo tried to change the subject, knowing it’d be in vain. 

“But that’s like,” Hou waved his hand, causing the car to swerve again. “Normal stuff. Everyday stuff. _ Stuff that’s not dragons!”  _

Hanzo laughed. “Let me drive.”

“You don’t have a license! I’ll put the auto-drive on!” Hou let go of the wheel and flopped back into the seat. “Dragons!”

Hanzo couldn’t help himself. He leaned over to kiss Hou again. He placed a hand under Hou’s chin and held him as he slowly and deeply kissed Matthew until he whimpered. He drew back, smiling at Hou’s flushed features.

“That is not fair.”

Hou’s hand was still clutching his shirt.

Hanzo allowed himself another smirk. 

“You are adorable.”

“How do you expect me to drive after a kiss like that?!”

“We can change the subject? What was the last book you read?”

“Oh my god, you’re asking me that? I don’t know.  _ Clifford the Big Red Dog _ to my little cousin. What about you?”

“ _ The Magic Faraway Tree. _ Also to one of your cousins.”

They looked at each other and laughed.

“They’re persistent, aren’t they?”

“It’s the eyes. They grow large then they look like they’re about to tear up.”

Hou chuckled. “Did you have young cousins like that?”

“Hmm… no. Most of my cousins were around my age. Some had children of their own and Naoko would always hand me her child…” Hanzo trailed off and fell silent.

“...Hanzo?”

“I had almost forgotten,” he said in a broken voice. “Naoko and two other cousins had hunted me to where I was hiding in China. I was forced to kill them.”

“Oh.”

“Naoko would never tell anyone who the father of her child was. Her parents were so upset with her, but she was so brave. Genji and I were the first people to hold her after her grandparents. Naoko always trusted Sayuri with Genji and myself.” Hanzo took a break, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Hey, Hanzo? Don’t take this the wrong way, but your family is a little fucked up, okay?”

Hanzo let out a strangled laugh.

“See, if anyone told me to hunt down a cousin close to me, I’d flip them the bird and call them names, and Naoko sounded like she was close to you and Genji.”

“She was. She got me in so much trouble when we were children. I think if her father and mine were not brothers, we would have been told to marry.” Hanzo quirked a small smile. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know Hou was wrinkling his nose. “She was closer to Genji, though. She spoiled him. We all did.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Hou squeezed his arm. 

“Three against one. That is impressive odds. Did they give you quarter?”

“No. And I did not expect them to.”

“Look, I’ll be frank.”

Hanzo braced himself for the worse.

“This is unsettling.”

Hanzo swallowed. 

“I mean… your family has sent assassins after you? Your own blood wants you dead. Have you seen the bounty on your head? It was impressive when I first heard about it this time last year. That’s how I recognised your name in the first place.”

Hanzo nodded, mutely. He had expected as much. 

“It’s high. Very high. High enough that I don’t want to touch it.” 

Hanzo opened his eyes to look at Hou. The other man was staring thoughtfully at the road ahead. This was not where he was expecting the conversation to lead.

“The thing about Richard is that his father is very subtly insane.”

Hanzo huffed a laugh at the sudden change of subject. 

“You might have see the type. Cold, distant from humanity. The sort of person who looks back at humanity with a very  _ distinct lack of humanity _ .” Hou paused, raising a brow at him.

“I know the type, yes.” Did he ever know the type. He had seen many of them in both criminal gangs and corporate boardrooms.

“Richard is not like his father, but he listens to what his father says. Sometimes they make sense, like this one. If a bounty seems like it pays too much, then it’s not worth your time. There’s other factors involved and the end cost might be too high. Listening to you… your family considers itself honourable, right? I’m going to bet that anyone who collects on your bounty will not have a chance to enjoy their winnings.”

“Ahhh… no. I don’t suppose that they will. That is cold comfort though.”

“How long do you think your family will keep sending assassins?”

Hanzo stared morosely out the window. “My family  _ trains _ assassins, so they will continue until either of us fall. Does it not bother you that I have killed people who are close to me?” He looked Hou, gauging his reaction.

Hou continued to act in ways that he didn’t expect. He merely shrugged. “I can see that you are regretful for your brother’s death. Your cousins had a choice and they made the wrong one. I would have been wary if you were not sorry for their deaths. I would have kicked you out of the house if you were like Richard’s father.”

“Just kicked out?” His smile was small, but amused.

“All right, a little bit more violent than kick.” Hou huffed. “We might want to keep your dragons a secret if they’re that unique to your family.”

“I… have used them ill recently, yes.”

Hanzo almost laughed at the disappointed face Hou made. 

“I mean, sure, you shouldn’t summon them at the drop of a hat, but…  _ dragons! _ ”

“They’re not that great,” teased Hanzo.

“Check this jerk out. ‘They’re not that great’ he says. Yeah, like  _ anybody _ could summon giant spirit dragons.”

Hanzo chuckled. Something squeezed his hand and he looked down. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but Hou had his hand in his. Hanzo looked down, smiling. He rubbed his thumb across Hou’s knuckles and looked up at him. The smile Hou gave was almost shy. Hanzo lifted their hands to press his fist against his heart. Hou’s smile grew warmer and Hanzo felt his heartrate quicken.

*

Later, when they arrived back at the apartment and returned the rental, Hou had stripped Hanzo of his shirt and was straddling his middle as he examined Hanzo’s tattoo. Hanzo laughed softly as Matthew’s curious touch tickled. The Japanese man lay back on their bed and made himself comfortable. It was easy to indulge Hou. It made Hanzo feel warm to have brought such delight to Hou, who in turn was turning his head and twisting his body to look at all angles of the storms and dragon on Hanzo’s left arm. Finally, he rested Hanzo’s arm back on his chest.

“I, too, have an ancient image that reflects my heritage,” Hou announced with ceremony.

Hanzo quirked a brow. “Is this image on your body?”

“It is, indeed!” Matthew unbuckled his belt and unfastened his jeans. He opened his jeans and tugged his briefs down by one edge to reveal the tattoo that was low on his hip, right on the level of his still covered genitalia. 

Hanzo stared at the tattoo, then looked at Hou’s cheeky grin.

“You don’t take your ancient heritage very seriously, do you?”

Matthew giggled. “It’s Curious George, he’s very Monkey.” 

“It’s a cartoon character.”

“Justin had King Kong on his back.”

Hanzo let out an involuntary snort, shaking his head. Still giggling, Hou pulled his jeans and briefs back up but didn’t refasten the top. Hanzo found his hands resting on Hou’s narrow hips as he lowered himself back over Hanzo’s stomach. Hou’s hands played with the contours of his abdomen in a distracting manner. 

Then Hanzo’s breath caught when Matthew lowered his body and gave his abs a long, slow lick, never breaking eye contact with Hanzo.

“So, is this a good time to talk about sex?” Hou winked.

Hanzo swallowed through a thick throat. “What would you like to know?”

Hou placed a small kiss over his lower rib. “What do  _ you _ want?”

“I… have been with many people.” 

“Brag.”

“No, I meant-” Then stopped when he saw Matthew’s teasing smirk. He brought his knee up to press flush against Matthew’s groin. There was a sharp intake of breath. “Behave. I was trying to say several things. I don’t want this to be casual. I…” Hanzo closed his eyes briefly. “I said earlier that I was indiscriminate with whom I slept with in the first year that I left Japan. I used and was used. I didn’t care about anything. I didn’t care about myself. I just existed. I don’t want to do that anymore.” He felt as Hou lowered himself so they rested chest to chest. Hou touched his face. “I want it to mean something with you. I want it to be meaningful with you.”

“All right.” Hou kissed him, gentle enough that he almost wept.

Perhaps he did. When Matthew pulled back, he ran his thumb under the corner of his eye. His arms came around Hou and they lay cradled together for a moment. 

“I want you to know that it’ll be special with you,” said Hanzo. “That it’ll mean something.”

“Shh.” Hou pressed their lips together. “I know, I understand.” He paused. “This is not causal for me either.”

Hanzo felt his throat tighten. He felt thankful, grateful. Overwhelmed, he wrapped his arms around Hou and held him flush to his chest. They stayed that way for a while, his hand in Hou’s short hair. 

Hou stirred and propped himself up on his elbow. Hanzo didn’t like his cheeky smirk.

“So does that mean you like penetration and being penetrated?”

Hanzo snorted, amused. “Yes.”

“Hmmm!” Hou sounded surprised. “I do have a harness and a dildo somewhere.”

“If it looks like a monkey…”

“What? No, what do I look like?” Hou paused, then. “But that does sound interesting.”

“Matthew…” 

“I’m kidding,” he said, grinning still. “Mostly kidding. It’s normal looking.” A pause. “I don’t think I like vaginal sex much. I find it uncomfortable and it twinges my gender dysphoria.”

“I don't know what that means.”

“You’ve seen me naked, right?”

“Yes, in the dark.”

“You’ve seen I’ve not had bottom surgery done.”

Hanzo looked like he was still trying to comprehend. 

“Gender dysphoria is someone’s emotional and mental unrest when their birth genitalia does not correspond with their gender identity. In other words, getting diddled in vajayjay makes me feel like a woman… which I don’t like and upsets me.”

“Ah. I understand.” Hanzo laughed, helplessly and fondly at the terms Hou used. He touched the back of his hand to Hou’s cheek and Matthew leaned his face against Hanzo’s rough knuckles.

“I haven’t tried anal either.” Hou shrugged. “And I know some transmen pretend they’re having anal when they have their pussies played with, so.... Food for thought. Eventually.”

Hanzo cupped his cheek. “We will do whatever you feel comfortable with. I… have my own problems as well.” Then his eyes widened. “I do not know how undiseased I am.” Memories of his captivity by the Triad gang came back like a gutpunch and he squeezed close his eyes.

He opened them again when Hou caressed his face. “We will do what you’re comfortable with as well.” He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Hanzo’s mouth. “And we can get checked tomorrow,” added Hou, confidently. “And I have condoms and lube for whatever tonight.” He beamed.

Hanzo found his courage bolstered by Hou’s blithe confidence. 

“For whatever, hmm?”

Hou snickered. “Okay, I was thinking, I get your trousers off, I get my jeans off, we put a condom on you, and I rub my clit over your cock. That sort of whatever.”

Hanzo found it difficult to swallow. “That… does sound like excellent thinking.”

Hou dipped his head to cover his mouth with his own, tonguing and nibbling with restrained hunger, not bothering with starting slow. Hanzo’s hands came up to cradle his head. He returned the kiss greedily, far too eager to hold back. He moaned softly, fingers tangling into Hou’s short hair. He stroked his tongue against Hou’s, enjoying the slick feeling and the helpless sound coaxed from Hou’s throat. They parted, breathing heavily.

Matthew grinned and pulled off his shirt. “Pants,” he said.

“Pants,” Hanzo agreed. 

Hou stood on the bed to push off his jeans then, still on the bed, stepped to the bedside unit to pull out the tube of lube and box of condoms. They looked both looked new. He must have bought them without Hanzo noticing… much like how Hanzo purchased the box of condoms and tube of lube in the other bedside unit. 

Hanzo unfastened his own trousers and kicked them off. Taking the foil square that Hou passed to him, he tore it impatiently at the notches in the foil and rolled the condom on. Hou straddled him again. 

Hanzo could feel his wet heat against his stomach. He ran his palms up Hou’s muscular thighs until they reached the apex of his thighs. Then one hand ran up Hou’s torso with a firm touch, feeling Hou’s smooth, hard body. Hou was hot under his hands and leaned into his touch, his eyes dark and hooded under the fringe of his hair. Hou’s slim hands were on his chest, gently tracing before they tensed as Hanzo’s thumb found his clit. Hanzo sighed at Hou’s soft sigh of pleasure. His thumb slipped into his folds, lightly caressing his clit. 

Hanzo’s gaze was fixed on Matthew’s face. He watched raptly as he explored him, just watching to see what Hou liked best. He was soft, and silky against his touch, and Hanzo treasured the gasps that he was able to urge from him.

His fingers and his stomach were slick from Hou’s arousal and obvious enjoyment. Hou gasped and arched his back when Hanzo pinched his clit, then sighed when Hanzo soothed the slight burn with a gentle stroke. Hou’s eyes were glazed and he whispered Hanzo’s name. Then it was Hanzo’s turn to sigh as his lover moved his hips over his condom-covered cock and pressed his wet heat over him. 

Hanzo looked at where the head of his cock peeked out from between Hou’s legs. Hou looked down also, and grinned. “Aww. Look at him. He’s cute.  _ Kawaii. _ ”

“You did not just-” Hanzo’s outrage was lost in a deep groan when Hou ground down on his cock. 

Hou laughed a little breathlessly. “He looks comfortable, all dressed for bed. Cute like a bug.” He rocked hard against Hanzo again, interrupting his huff of insult. “He just needs a little massage before bed.”

Hanzo tossed his head back and groaned at this treatment. “Stop saying cute and little.”

Matthew laughed again, still rubbing his clit against Hanzo’s length. Hanzo’s hands came to cup Hou’s ass. He could feel Hou’s slight shudders as he enjoyed the friction against his clit. Hanzo could tell it wasn’t enough for them to come to completion, but this slow rocking with lazy smiles and soft moans, it was perfect for now.

*

Later, when they were done and rested and showered, Hou checked his inbox. “Ah. Good. I’ve been given permission to operate temporarily in Manhattan for a few months and I’ve got permission for you, too.” He tapped off a reply before setting the phone back on the counter. Hanzo looked up from his food prep. 

“You mentioned me by name?”

“No, I just called you my associate. You may want to think of a codename.”

“What do you go as?”

Hou grinned. “Can’t you guess?”

“If you’re going to say Curious George…”

“No! It’s Monkey Man.”

Hanzo briefly closed his eyes. “That is acceptable.”

“Thank you for your approval.”

Hanzo clucked his tongue at that cheek and smirked in turn.

“When do we leave? Have we a place there?”

“We leave as planned, and Richard has said I can use his loft.” At Hanzo’s raised brow, he elaborated. “He officially lives with his mother when he’s not at school.”

Hanzo sighed at this. 

“But he has a furnished loft in Brooklyn that’s his to move into when he turns eighteen.”

“Westerners are strange in their customs.” Back in Asia, it would be unthinkable for a young person to move out of the family home before finishing study if he lived in the same city as his parents.

Hou shrugged. “He needs a place to work from, I suppose. Anyway, it’s ours to use. I have a keypass.”

“Richard-kun is generous.”

Hou laughed. “He’ll hate that.”

“He’s a seventeen-year-old schoolboy.”

“He can pull his weight.”

“That is what concerns me.” He shook his head at Hou’s raised brow. “Matthew. He’s so young.”

“I know. My only consolation is that I can do nothing to corrupt him.”

Hanzo raised a questioning brow. 

“Hanzo, he told me he had his first assisted kill at age ten.”

Hanzo gave him an incredulous look. “How is this boy sane?”

Hou shrugged widely.

Hanzo paused. “ _ Is  _ he sane?”

Hou blew out a breath. “Mostly, I think. I think his mother keeps him grounded.” He looked at Hanzo. “When was the first time you killed someone?”

“With help, you mean?” Hanzo shook his head. “I was not eased into it. There was a traitor to the clan and I dealt with him. I was fifteen. Ten is too young.” Fifteen was too young, for that matter.

“He is my friend and I trust him.”

Hanzo looked at the vegetables he’s been cutting, frowning. “Would you trust him with your young cousins?”

“I would.” Hanzo looked up in surprise. Hou continued. “He comes from a large extended family as well. He talks about them often. I have seen him with small animals and he’s kind and gentle.”

Hanzo spread his hands. “If you trust him, then I trust him. I still think his upbringing is disturbing.”

“You and me both.”

“Do you need my assistance tomorrow? I need to run a few errands.”

Hou raised both his brows. “No. What are you doing?”

“I need to arrange access to my overseas accounts, extract some cash, and a few other things.”

Hou buzzed with curiosity but Hanzo’s smirk was his only answer.

 

**2068 - NYC**

 

They landed in Laguardia a week and half later and took a cab to the loft. They had five bags between the two of them and there was the crate of weapons that Hou had sent ahead. They unloaded the cab and Hou left Hanzo to haul the bags up to the apartment as he went to collect their weapons from the courier office. 

Hauling the bags up wasn’t bad. There was a small elevator to the upper floor of the building, which was a modified warehouse. The ground floor was a parking space for the one residential space and the rest of the building, which housed the offices of  _ Everard Designs _ . Hanzo deduced that Richard’s mother owned the building. 

He wondered what was making him sarcastic in his own head.

Reaching the main floor, the elevator opened out to a large area. He pushed out the bags then looked around. The elevator opened out to the main living area. It was furnished with a modular sofa set that faced a large holoscreen. There was spiral staircase on the other wall that led up to the roof area. Beside that staircase was a variety of gym equipment: high bar, a boxing bag, and weights on a stand. Directly adjacent to the living area was a dining table. There was a luxurious fruit arrangement basket on it, with two envelopes poking out. One was addressed to Hou, and the other had his name in the correct kanji. 

Hanzo looked at the cards with some trepidation before looking at the rest of the room. 

On the far wall from the outside entrance was the kitchen. It was gallery style with a full fridge and a generous freezer. There was a laundry beside the kitchen. The kitchen lay beneath a mezzanine floor, and climbing the other spiral staircase up Hanzo found a large bed with plush robes and towels waiting on it. There was a full bathroom with a deep and wide tub. 

Hanzo looked at it with longing. It had been a long while since he’d had the chance to soak. He decided to fill it. It should be full by the time Hou arrived. Going back down the stairs, he took his shoes off (feeling a tinge of guilt at wearing them in the living area) and left them by the staircase. Padding to the dining table, he plucked the envelope addressed to him and opened it. 

He was still reading it when the doorbell chimed. The monitor by the front door displayed Hou’s face and Hanzo buzzed him in. He helped Hou with the weapons crate and they set it down next to the boxing bag. Hou beamed at him. 

“How’s the place?”

“It’s impressive.” He held out his sheaf of letters. “Richard’s mother wrote a long introduction to me. In fluent Japanese, including kanji. I thought you didn’t tell anyone my name?”

“I didn’t. Ahh….” Hou paused. “Ah,” he said again. “She has some powers but I think that fluency comes from her own education.”

“No, I didn’t think that there was magic that could give one the gift of languages,” chuckled Hanzo. “Especially since the envelope addressed to you is in English. I set the tub to fill. Would you like to join me?”

Hou brightened.

Hanzo set aside Dia Everard’s letter to read later and led Hou up the stairs.

*

The two weeks passed quickly. Hanzo and Hou quickly took over the dining table to lay out their notes and tablets. A large map of Manhattan was pinned to the wall. The kitchen was well stocked, so they didn’t have to spend time scrounging for supplies. They tracked local Triad personalities around, hoping for a familiar description. 

It was ever frustrating for Hou that he didn’t have any names to work with. All he had to work with were descriptions from his grandfather, some of them too vague to be of any use, but there was one that Hanzo found all too familiar. He told Hou that the man with the scar in the shape of a star was familiar to him, that he was a frequent visitor to the warehouse in Ho Chi Minh City. Hanzo didn’t elaborate; he didn’t want to let Hou know the depths of how he was violated even if he knew that Hou suspected. 

Despite their short skateout, they weren’t able to spot any of the gang members who fit any of Hou’s list of descriptions. They did, however, find top members who were wanted overseas. They mapped out lines of property and key individuals in the structure. 

They had to be careful. Hou had explained that the Gentleman would not tolerate vigilante activity, but he did approve of sport hunting. They couldn't dismantle the Triad gang- the vacuum left would leave the door open to unknown factors and the Gentleman could not afford to let his city be so affected. They could, however, hunt individuals. And if that hunt destabilised the internal gang structure, well, that was fine, too, and no one’s fault.

The day of Richard’s arrival came without him. Hou could only shrug at the boy’s lateness. “He might have been held up at his mother’s.”

When evening fell, they ordered (in Hanzo’s opinion) too greasy American Chinese takeaway and stopped for pizza “just in case,” Hou said. They took their dinner to a park, to sit on benches to watch the boats pass on the East River as they ate. The Brooklyn Bridge cast its shadow above them. Feckless youths passed around them, rolling on their skateboards. Hou and Hanzo talked of nothing important, just enjoying each other’s company for the first time since that first day they arrived. 

Then Hou said, “He’s here.” 

“What are you two doing? I could have killed you twice over.” The voice came from behind them.

That was an auspicious start indeed.

“No, you couldn’t. You’re not packing.” Hou barely turned as he shoveled fried rice into his mouth. 

Hanzo, however, did turn in his seat, chopsticks sticking up in his box of chow mein noodles. 

Richard St. James was not what he expected. The hair shocked him for a moment. It was a dark green rather than Genji’s preferred bright seafoam green, but it was enough to make Hanzo stiffen. He was also taller than Hanzo expected. He could only guess from his sitting position, but he suspected that the boy had at least ten centimeters of height above him. Richard was built on lean lines but there was an appreciative amount of muscle on him even if he still had that unfinished look to his physique that teenagers carried. He was dressed in a graphic tee shirt and baggy cargo shorts, and he carried a skateboard in his hands. It was metal, Hanzo realised.

Hanzo was surprised at how normal he looked.

Then again, that was probably the idea.

“We got you pizza,” said Hou.

Richard hesitated, the held his hand out. “Gimme.” Then he turned to look at Hanzo. 

“So you’re the lost Shimada-gumi kumicho. Tell me, what did it feel like to kill your brother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo doggy it's been a hot summer! The cool weather is slowly approaching, but not quickly enough. 
> 
> Thank you all for your words of encouragement and enjoyment. I'm glad that I can still entertain my readers :D


	7. House Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tags: implied torture, implied past rape

 

 

**2068 - New York**

 

“So you’re the lost Shimada-gumi kumicho. Tell me, what did it feel like to kill your brother?”

“Richard!” Hou was outraged.

Hanzo did not kill the boy. He did not even move. Instead he narrowed his eyes and smiled. 

“The regret I feel at his loss would not be mirrored in yours.”

“Huh.” Richard chewed on his pizza, unconcerned at the threat. “I ask because I want to know what it feels like to kill a close relation. I have been thinking that it’s time to take my father’s place.” He nodded at Hou. “Move over, short stuff.”

Hou grumbled but shuffled closer to Hanzo after shifting the other takeaway boxes to the ground. 

“Seriously, Richard? This is why he wants to send you out of state for college.”

“Like the lion exiles the young males in his pride,” said Richard.

Hou stared at him. 

“But then, the young lion matures away from the pride, and grows stronger than he thought he was before returning to fight for his place,” said Hanzo, with understanding.

Hou next turned to stare at Hanzo.

“Huh. That makes sense. Thank you. I will bide my time.”

Hou worked his jaw before he gave up and focused on his fried rice. “You are both crazy,” he muttered. Richard shrugged and inhaled his pizza slice and worked on the next.

Hanzo was not one for displaying affection in public, but he shifted his leg so it rested against Hou’s. He watched Richard’s eyes track the movement, his mouth tightening at the corners. It was gone in the next moment when he looked back up at Hanzo and Hou.

“So, what work do we have tonight?”

*

They had gotten wind that a high ranking Triad boss was visiting from China. The bounty on the man known as Brother Yeoh (one of his many aliases) was impressive, but not as valuable as the possible knowledge he might possess. Hou and Hanzo had located the places where he was staying and holding meetings through good old fashioned footwork. The plan was to capture and kidnap him, take him to a remote spot, and extract information from him before collecting the bounty. Hou and Hanzo had spent many a night hanging from roofs and crouching under windows, eavesdropping and gathering as much information as possible. 

“Have you a vehicle to transport the target?” 

Hanzo shook his head. “Not as yet.”

Richard took a mental note. “And a private location?”

Again, the negative headshake. 

“I may know some spots. If you don’t need me, I’ll scout around tonight. The van will be easier to source. I know where to acquire motorcycles as well. Best not to use the collection in the garage.” He looked at their faces then raised a brow at Hou. “Did you forget about my vehicles in the garage?”

Hou blushed. “I did.”

Richard flicked his glance to Hanzo. “Two hovercycles, a van and a sports car. All are under my name, so I suggest only using them for recreation.” He pause. “And I suggest trying the sports car out before I go back to school. I intend to crash it spectacularly as is expected of a youth of my age.”

Hou looked like he was going to say something but Richard didn’t give him the chance to voice a word.

“What are the sleeping arrangements like?”

“Hou and I have been sleeping on the bed. However it is your house.”

Richard shook his head. “The sofa easily converts into a bed.” He checked his watch. “I’ll be back by midnight. Matty has my number.” He tossed his skateboard to the ground and was off, ollying over the kerb and landing neatly before rolling away.

Hou frowned. “Huh. He only calls me that when he’s angry or annoyed.” He looked at Richard’s retreating back until he turned a corner. 

“Will this be a problem?” Hanzo wondered if it were more than just about the bed.

“I don’t know yet.” He turned to Hanzo. “You stake out the brother. I’ll find out who he is meeting with tomorrow. Here’s Richard’s number.” He entered the series of digits into Hanzo’s phone. He squeezed Hanzo’s hand in farewell and was off.

Hanzo went on his way as well. He knew that Matthew was on his way to Chinatown. There were several locations and groups that Hou, with his agile mobility, could easily keep track of. Hanzo was better suited to staking out a single target. He made his way to Brother Yeoh’s hotel by catching the subway. He made sure that Hou had a ten minute head start so that they wouldn’t be observed in the same company as they arrived on the Manhattan side of the river. 

Hanzo became one easily with the early evening crowd. With his hair in a high topknot and wearing a tee shirt with chinos, he was easily balanced between fashionable to blend and not fashionable enough to stand out. His ultimate destination was not the West 59th St. hotel where Brother Yeoh was staying, but the parking garage on West 58th St. 

The sun was just setting as he left Brooklyn and it was now full dusk. Entering the garage, he made his way as high as he could, then found a window in a blind camera spot and crawled out and climbed up the rest of the way. From the roof, it was a an easy matter to run, jump and climb to the proper building, and then another easy matter of scaling the side of the building until he came to Brother Yeoh’s room. He wasn’t in tonight, having gone to dinner with associates - Hou had sent a text earlier saying that he had eyes on their target. 

This was fine too. It meant that Hanzo could investigate the hotel room. The room next to Yeoh’s was unoccupied. Most highrise hotels sealed their windows shut so Hanzo had to cut open a glass pane in the window. He knocked it through and it popped out on the other side. He caught that square of glass before it hit the carpet and slipped without touching the sharp sides. Then it was a matter of taping up the glass back to the window in a way that wouldn’t be noticed for a day or two. 

Slipping out the room door, he walked the short way down to the next room and entered Yeoh’s room with a room pass that Hou picked from a hotel housekeeper’s pocket maid’s pocket earlier that day. Yeoh was going to be at dinner for another hour at least, but Hanzo went straight to his computer and plugged the programmed thumbdrive in. Next he rifled through the dressers and closets and hid a few electronic bugs around the room. There was nothing of note and Hanzo considered waiting for the Triad boss to return when Hou sent a text saying that the man was leaving the restaurant with company. 

Another time then.

Hanzo retrieved the thumbdrive, and exited the room. He tugged a flat cap from his back pocket and fitted over his head before dropping the stolen passcard in the lobby next to a cluster of waiting chairs. He then walked out the front doors of the hotel, no one the wiser.

He arrived at the Brooklyn loft a couple hours later, having taken a circuitous route home out of caution and paranoia. Richard was already back, skating up and down on the pavement in front of the street entrance. He jumped off the pavement, sparks kicking up behind him, and skated towards him. He went behind Hanzo as the Japanese man walked unconcernedly to the front door. Richard jumped off his board and picked it up to walk beside Hanzo without a word. He entered behind him and rode up the elevator in silence. 

Hanzo calmly stepped into the large open loft where he and Hou had been staying for the past fortnight and turned bodily to watch Richard step past him. The teenager hung his board on the brackets by the elevator and was headed to the sofa when Hanzo caught him by the arm.

“Shoes off. It is rude to wear your shoes indoors.”

Hanzo knew it was petty, but he wanted to see how the boy would react. Richard worked his jaw, but he was not angry… just challenged. Hanzo could see the boy struggle with his instinct to push back and react violently. Finally, Richard sated his need for a fight by roughly pulling his arm free. He didn’t break eye contact with Hanzo as he toed his sneakers off before padding further into the loft in his socks. 

Hanzo found it interesting that he didn’t use the knife that appeared in his hand. He catalogued the encounter and removed his own shoes before following Richard into the kitchen.

“Matthew will be a while,” said Hanzo, still keeping a careful eye on the younger man. “He’s tailing our target.”

Richard nodded. He was unwrapping a large, uneven package wrapped in brown butcher’s paper. He eyed Hanzo and the former Yakuza realised that he was equally wary of him as Hanzo was of Richard. 

“There are potatoes in that bag. Do you prefer them mashed, boiled or roasted?”

“We just had dinner not long ago.”

“Are you telling me that Matt won’t be hungry when he returns?”

Hanzo acknowledged the point with a nod. He regarded the bag of potatoes, trying to think of how Hou liked them.

“What is the meat?” he asked, stalling while he thought.

Richard pulled away the last of the paper to reveal a large, dark brown chunk of meat. The surface was dry and looked like leather.

“What is  _ that _ ?” 

“Forty eight day, dry aged all American Rib Eye,” Richard said, proudly.

“It has fur.”

“That means it was aged correctly.”

“This is for human consumption?”

Richard didn’t deign to answer as he pulled a knife from the magnetic strip on the wall and began honing it with a steel. 

Hanzo exhaled, knowing that Richard had won this round. He turned to the riddle of potatoes. He didn’t cook Western meals often and decided it was not cheating if he looked up recipes. He was horrified to find that everything required an immense amount of butter or cream or both. Who even used duck fat to cook in?

He shook his head at the unhealthy habits of Westerners.

Regardless, there was a lot of butter, cheese and herbs in the fridge. He decided on mashed potatoes as the easiest course. He peeled the potatoes as Richard carved the leather away from the viable meat. Hanzo had to admit that once the tough exterior was cut, the meat looked good, dry and dark red. He cut the potatoes and dropped them into cold water that he remembered to salt liberally and set them to boil. Richard carefully cut thick steaks, setting them on a plate. 

Then, wiping his hands, he turned and leaned on the counter, mirroring Hanzo’s own stance. 

Hanzo got the first shot in.

“You tout your ‘All American beef,, yet your accent is not pure American.” No, there were accents from England in that voice. 

“It can be.” Richard’s crooked smile sharpened. “You know Matt asked me to find out information about you? I have quite the stack to give him.”

Hanzo forced the tenseness in his shoulders to relax. “If Matthew has asked for information on me, then give it to him.”

Richard tilted his head back. “Brave man.”

“I will not beg for quarter.”

The boy’s smile widened. Hanzo wanted to break that grin. “Good. We can work well together. How far out is Hou?”

Hanzo only broke his gaze to check his phone. “He’s on the subway. ETA twenty minutes.” Richard reached up for the large skillet which he placed to heat on the stove top. 

“If we’re thinking vegetables, there’s frozen peas in the freezer.”

“You have good meat and potatoes, and you are settling for frozen peas?” Hanzo raised a brow. 

“Then I leave the vegetable side dish to you.” He turned around to liberally salt the steaks. Hanzo almost gagged as Richard caked the steaks in the stuff.

“Are you trying to kill us with that salt?”

Richard flicked a glance at him. “Have you seen how thick I cut the steaks? You won’t notice the salt.”

“Brush it off.”

“If you think I am going to under-season a brilliant piece of steak like this, you don’t know me at all.”

Hanzo looked the boy, looked down at the salt crusted steak, then back up at Richard. He took a step forward. 

“I will not let you poison us like this.”

Chest to chest with Hanzo, Richard didn’t back down. 

“It’s not poison,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s required seasoning for slices of steak this thick. You’ll thank me when you take your first bite.”

“I think not.”

“Why don’t you look up recipes and see if I’m right?”

Hanzo narrowed his gaze.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Richard shifted his weight back and crossed his arms.

This was the scene Hou returned to. He kicked off his shoes and padded barefoot to the kitchen where he heard furious criticisms and snarled retorts. Hou could practically hear the bared teeth and the knives that were minutes away from being drawn. He watched as Hanzo expressed horror at the chunk of butter being dropped into a skillet, Richard’s biting reply, the clang as the skillet was shoved roughly into the oven. The air was tight with unthrown punches and unsheathed knives.

And they were in a kitchen. Surrounded by knives and other heavy objects that the both of them with their training could use to kill each other.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and kept his voice light when he yelled out a greeting. “I’m home!”

There was a guilty silence, then Hanzo stepped around the counter and into the open area of the loft. “Matthew, I didn’t hear you come back.” He reached out to touch his hand and Hou twined their fingers together.

“Yeah, I just got in. What’s cooking? It smells great!” 

“Dry aged steak, mashed potatoes and possibly some vegetables,” said Richard. Hou was not surprised to find that there was no sign of the aggression that was earlier in his voice. “We have time for you to clean up before supper’s ready. Then we need to talk about tonight’s findings.”

“What sort of vegetables? Salad?”

“Richard was going to use frozen peas.”

Hou wrinkled his nose. “We can do better!”

“That’s what I said.”

Richard shrugged. “If you’re not going to use the bathroom, I will. I only need to wait on the steaks for ten minutes.” He headed up the spiral staircase to the mezzanine bed area and the bathroom on the same level. 

Hou pulled Hanzo into the kitchen with him. He arched a brow. Hanzo looked obstinate and stubborn, setting his jaw in a way that Hou found adorable. He glared at Hou, then looked away. 

“How did you react to his challenges?”

Hou shrugged. “Richard never played those games with me. I think it’s because I don’t exude alpha masculinity like you do.”

He almost laughed at the face Hanzo made, but pulled him down and kissed that scowling mouth instead. He felt the tenseness melt away under his hands and grinned. “Fucking adorable.”

Hanzo scowled again, but Hou had turned to the fridge.

“I think we have some spinach? Buttered spinach sounds good.”

“More butter? My cholesterol will not survive this night.” 

Hou only snickered.

*

Hanzo hated to admit it, but Richard was right. The steak was perfect. Beautifully caramelised on the outside, it was still pink on the inside. Even the generous coating of salt was well distributed when you took into account how thick the steaks were. Hanzo could not believe how tender it was. He could not believe how flavourful it was. 

The whole meal was excellent. Hanzo felt overstuffed and he could tell that he wasn’t the only one. Hou was staring at his plate with regretful longing while Richard was making a valiant effort as he slowly raised his last forkful of steak to his mouth and chewed. 

“I can’t do it,” said Hou. “Richard? Hanzo? Want the rest of mine?”

Richard groaned, tossing his silverware to the plate. “I can’t.” He covered his face with his hands. “I want to but I can’t.”

“I can’t believe you’re bailing on me, Richard.”

The fingers of Richard’s left hand folded, leaving the middle sticking out. 

“Hanzo?”

He sighed. “No, I could not fit another mouthful in.”

“I don’t want to stick it in the bin,” Hou whined.

Richard’s hands dropped away. “What? No, wrap it in foil and keep it for later.”

“But it’ll be cold and dry.”

“I’ll eat it in the morning.”

“Not if I get to it first.”

Hanzo locked gazes with Richard again.

“Seriously guys.” Hou rested his elbows on the table. “I need us all to work together.”

Hanzo and Richard continued to eye each other but the look was now wary as opposed to contentious.

“Please stop with the pissing contest.”

Hanzo regarded Hou and looked back at Richard. He crossed his arms. “That hair. Why that colour?”

Richard looked surprised. “Green? Because the police are already aware of a violent freak with blue hair. I thought I would change it up.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes. “It was not to disconcert me?”

“Why would green hair disconcert you?”

Hanzo felt the weight Hou’s gaze but didn’t answer the question.

“Hanzo?” 

He shook his head at Hou. “It is not important.” He flicked his eyes at Richard. “I will cease the power play.”

“Thank you. I will as well.” 

“Let’s clear the table and talk about what we’ve learned tonight,” suggested Hou.

Leftovers were wrapped and stored away in the fridge, and plates and cutlery went into the dishwasher.

Then they sat back down with assorted notes and tablets.

“Matthew, before we start, I need to ask you something.” Richard rested his chin on his laced fingers. “Just how are you going to extract information from this man?”

Hou stuck his tongue into the side of his cheek. “I am hoping to blackmail him, but first I’d like confirmation that he knows any of my targets.”

Richard raised a brow. “So you are not going to go further than blackmail?”

Hou gave Richard an unhappy look. “I’m not going to turn you into my torturer.” 

Richard spread his hands. “I have skills that my father imparted to me with great cost to my mental health. I’m just saying that it would be a shame not to put me to use.” He calmly took a sip of his soda.

“No. I will not use you like that.”

“It’s your operation,” Richard nodded. “But if not me, then whom? Yourself? Your boyfriend?”

“Richard, enough.”

The green haired boy snorted softly. “All right then. Regardless, I’ve located two likely abandoned locales where we can work, and I’ve a vehicle we can use.”

“Will we need to bribe any local authorities for the use of these facilities?” asked Hanzo.

Richard smiled slightly. “No. No one would want word to get back to my father that they took money from his son.”

Hou grunted. “Which do you recommend?” 

“They’re both good. There’s a site in Hell’s Kitchen that’s abandoned, has multiple escape routes, and is a veritable warren of a death trap unless you know what you’re doing. Getting away in a vehicle would be an issue, because it’s in the middle of the city.”

“A likely home away from home,” said Hanzo.

“Yes, it’s very cosy. Comes with its own house pets.”

“And the other?” asked Hou.

“Not far from here in Greenpoint. It’s spacious and surrounded by abandoned buildings. You could easily park several escape vehicles in there. However, it’s a bit further from the city, but much easier to escape to the open road.”

“You are very concerned with not getting caught,” Hanzo observed.

Richard smiled thinly. “That’s part of the game, isn’t it?”

“Let’s go with the Greenpoint place,” said Hou. “I mean, I like the rambling deathtrap but I have this animal fur allergy…”

“Understood.”

“Brother Yeoh will only be in New York for a few more days. We have to work quickly,” said Hou. 

“I will go over the files I took from his computer tonight,” said Hanzo.

Hou nodded. “I wish I could say I learned more tonight but I can’t even say that. Transfer half the folders over to my computer, we’ll do that together.”

“Then I guess I’ll unpack and head to bed,” said Richard. “I’ve got a lot of work to do in the morning.”

They scattered from the table, with Hou and Hanzo returning. Richard busied himself with his bags and from the corner of his eye, Hanzo saw him extract a katana and wakizashi set from a bag. The set was a gaudy white with red trim, but Richard handled them with respect, if not reverence. Hou looked over at Richard, no doubt wondering what Hanzo was looking at.

“Ah, those are his mother’s swords. She gave them to him when he turned fifteen. The blades are gorgeous.”

“I see.” He turned back to his tablet, scrolling through the stolen files. It was a hodgepodge of business receipts, porn, and illegally downloaded holovids. His hand in his hair, Hanzo quickly browsed through the folder names, all of which were written in hanzi. If he didn’t know what the characters sounded like in Chinese, he could still tell what they meant in Japanese, so when he came across a folder that he read in Japanese as ‘photos’, he immediately opened it. 

They weren’t an immediate disappointment. Either Brother Yeoh had many affectionate granddaughters, or he frequented many houses of ill-repute. Hanzo must have spent too long trying to unravel one picture that Hou asked if he found anything interesting. 

Hou too looked at the picture, first with a tilted head, then at arms length. Richard came to see what the fuss was about. He squinted at the picture.

“I’m not sure I understand what I’m looking at,” said the youngest of them. “But for the first time in my life, I feel like I need to call for adult supervision.”

“ _ If _ I understand what I’m looking at,” said Hou. “Then Yeoh is more flexible than a man his age should be.”

“Or he’s been dating contortionists.”

Hanzo grunted. “To the next image. We’re not learning anything here.” He took the tablet back and swiped the photo left. He froze. The man with the star scar stared back at him, his arm slung over Brother Yeoh’s shoulders. There was more going on in the picture but Hanzo could only stare at the man with the star scar over his eye. 

The tablet was plucked from his nerveless fingers and Hou’s hand closed over his. He looked helplessly at the smaller man and Hou only squeezed his fingers.

“That’s confirmation,” said Richard, the tablet in his hands. “I’ll see what else I can find, maybe leverage. Head on to bed.”

Hanzo was about to protest when Hou stood and tugged at his arm. He stood and followed Hou up the stairs.

They changed into sleep clothes and Hanzo curled into Hou’s arms as his slender hands ran through his hair. They didn’t say a word as Hanzo’s hands came up to cling to Hou’s shirt. 

 

*****

 

Hou came out of the room shaking with anger. “He won’t talk.”

Hanzo and Richard exchanged a look.

“You’re compromised,” said Richard. “It has to be me.”

Hanzo frowned then nodded. 

Richard moved to enter the room but Hou placed a hand on his chest. 

“No, I said we won’t use torture.” 

“What choice do you have?”

They picked up their target, Brother Yeoh, when he was on his way to the airport. He was accompanied only by his bodyguards, and they had been easily dispatched. It was a matter of timing to break into his rental limo, shoot his guards dead, and hijack the vehicle. It was later dumped into the Hudson River with all the bodies. There were few witnesses and even then no one who really noticed that it was a kidnapping, not a gang hit.

No one knew that Brother Yeoh was missing. All of his body guards had been shot in the face.

They could take their time.

“Arrange for the bounty pay off. I’ll have your information by the time they’re ready for him.”

“Richard.”

“I’ll be fine.” He ruffled Hou’s hair then slipped into the room.

Hou went to stand beside Hanzo, backs to the wall. Hanzo already had his phone out, sending a message one handed. He held Hou close to him then they listened to the screams. 

They started and stopped, then started again. This went on for a while. 

Hou pressed against Hanzo until the screaming stopped and Richard came out of the room, wiping his hands on a cloth. He leaned on the door jamb and looked at them. 

“We need to patch him up then we should go.”

“Go clean up,” said Hanzo. He went into the room to clean up after Richard’s mess.

*

They were quiet on the way home and when they got there, Richard went straight to the bathroom. Hou followed after, as did Hanzo after a while. Richard had stripped off his shirt and was standing in front of the sink. 

“I’m fine,” he was saying to Hou. “I’m fine.” He looked at Hanzo through the mirror with hard and old eyes. “How was the handover?”

“Smooth.”

“Good.” He turned back to Hou. “Star scar’s name is Tan Guan Goh. He’s coming here in two weeks.”

“Well.”

“Well, indeed.”

 

*****

 

**2068 - Christmas**

 

Genji knew that following Jesse home for Christmas was a mistake. It was going to be a mistake of epic proportions. He was not suited for company. He was not suited for travel. He was not suited for  _ outside _ . His fingers twitched nervously. He wished he never mentioned a thing to McCree about having nowhere to go for the holiday. There were still going to be people on base who didn’t celebrate Christmas, it wasn’t like he was going to be  _ alone _ .

No, he had to mention something to Jesse, who in turn begged him visit his mother’s family for Christmas.

“You’ll like Yin,” McCree had said. “She’s smart and tough and no-nonsense. Ren’s a shit but Yin says he’s grown out of it a bit. Please say you’ll come with me, partner? I don’t wanna go by myself and I’ve put it off for a couple years already. Any longer and I reckon Yin will just hunt me down, and drag my sorry carcass in for Christmas dinner. You’ll be doing me a favour, honest.”

That was how Genji found himself hitching a ride with McCree on an Overwatch transport to Texas. Their bags were full of wrapped packages because Genji wasn’t so far gone as to visit a home without bringing gifts for the household.

He wondered what McCree told his family about him. Genji looked over to the seats beside him where the gunslinger was sprawled, wrapped in his coat and snoring, his hat over his face. No, McCree was no help. He was less than help. He was the asshole who made him agree to this in the first place. 

Genji clenched his hand into a fist. There was still time. He could save them all a few days of awkward interaction. McCree could just deal with his family on his own. They were none of Genji’s business. They had done well enough without meeting him thus far. 

However, he didn’t move from his seat. He clutched the armrests, but didn’t move from the seat to the exit hatch and fling himself into the sky, no matter how much he wanted to. He stewed in his insecurities until the pilot announced the ten minute ETA to their destination. McCree still hadn’t woken so Genji reached over and shoved at his friend. “We are close by.”

Jesse woke immediately. “We’re here? You should have woke me sooner, partner. Didn’t drag you all the way out here so you could just watch me sleep.” The cowboy sat up in his seat, rubbing at his eyes. Genji was reminded that Jesse had worked extra hard making sure that all his reports were up-to-date and filed before they made their trip. He didn’t want Reyes to call him up and cut his vacation short. Frankly, Genji doubted that would happen. He had a feeling the Blackwatch commander knew how important this was for Jesse, even more so than Jesse himself. Which was why Genji still hadn’t jumped ship yet.

“Better get your coat on, partner. It’s gonna be right chilly out there.” McCree stood to gather his bags together. Genji looked out the window and hurried to pull his coat on. It was dark out, and there were flurries of snow as the transport sped in the air. There was a light sprinkling of snow on the ground as they landed in an empty pasture, not far from the main house. He and McCree disembarked, carrying their bags and waving as the pilot took off again on his way to Dallas. Several figures emerged from the house and he and Jesse walked the short distance to meet them.

“Jesse!” The cry was feminine and pleasant. A tall, slim figure ran and threw her arms around the gunslinger. McCree staggered back, almost dropping his bags. 

“Heya, Yin.” There was a happy, if shy, grin on Jesse’s face. “Good to see you, too. This is Genji like I told y’all about.”

Genji, masked, his armour in his bag and his coat masking his synth-muscle body, stood stock still. Yin’s dark brown eyes raked across him, then she smile and stuck her gloved hand out. “Good to meet you, Genji. I’m Falcon Yin.” 

Genji carefully took her hand in his articulated metal grip. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Yin-chan.”

Yin wrinkled her nose when she grinned. “Yin-chan. That’s super cute. I like that.” She turned around, slipping her arm through his. Two more figures had appeared out of the darkness when he’d been greeting Yin. They were shaking McCree’s hand, the shorter one with warmth, the taller one a bit stiffly.

“Hey y’all, this is Genji, Jesse’s friend that he was telling us about.” She introduced him to her father, Falcon Lee, and her brother, Ren. Lee was around fifty and was shorter than both his children. Genji liked the welcoming smile on his round face. It was clear that Yin got her looks from her father’s side of the family though her cheekbones were higher. Ren, on the other hand, looked shockingly like a younger version of Jesse. Side by side, the resemblance was uncanny even if Ren had a ways to go before he fully filled out, but Genji didn’t think he’d grow taller than Jesse. He wasn’t as warm as his sister or father, but he wasn’t as stiff with him as he was with McCree.

“Well! What’re we all doing out here? Let’s get on in and warm up.” Lee hustled everyone into the warmth of the house. 

Once inside, Yin led her guests to a spare room. “Sorry, y’all, ya gotta share a room.” Genji peered in. “Thank you, it is fine. It’s larger than some dorms we have been in.”

“That’s the truth.” Jesse chewed on the end of his cigarillo. 

“Dinner’s in half an hour. Go freshen up.”

“Aw shucks, you mean we held you up?” Jesse sounded chagrined.

Yin gave an airy wave. “Nah, you gave us your ETA and we waited for you. It’s no big deal. The bathroom is down the hall if you need to use it. Hope you’re hungry cuz Dad made his sticky wings.”  She was off with a grin, her long hair swishing behind her.

Genji went into the room and dropped his bags on the bed. He sat down, sticking his legs out. “You’re right, she’s nice.” 

Jesse ducked his head, flushing. “Yeah, and they’re both smart, too. I’m kinda proud, ya know? Like they’re not going places I been and they’re gonna do better things than me.” He dropped his bags by his bed. “I’m gonna go clean up.” He slipped out the room and down to the bathroom.

Genji opened his bags and pulled out his host gifts. At a loss as to what to get the Tsu family, he brought bottles of olive oil and red wine, and bars of chocolate, all from Spain. He looked at the items laid out on his bed and wondered if he should have bought some ribbons to dress up the gifts. This was the sort of thing that Okaasan or Hanzo would think about. Sighing, he left his coat on his bed and dressed in his Overwatch overalls, went out to join the Tsus in the kitchen and dining rooms, his gifts in his arms. 

Ren was putting the finishing touches on the dining table while Yin was in the kitchen with Lee. It was probably a bad time to present the gifts as Lee was frying something in a large wok. Ren looked up. “Wow, hey, didn’t see you there.”

“I... have gifts,” Genji said. He felt awkward, like he didn’t belong here.

“I think you can put them in the living room.” 

Genji nodded and retreated. Jesse was in the dining room when he returned, having a stilted conversation with Ren. 

*

Jesse excused himself after dinner and clean up. He went out to the porch, wrapped up tight in his coat. He lit his cigarillo and wondered if this outing wasn’t going to be an unmitigated failure. Genji was shut up tighter than a miser’s wallet, totally out of his element. He didn’t even take off his mask all dinner, but he did make small conversation. Jesse took a mouthful of smoke and thought about that. Maybe his friend was going to be alright after all. He wished he thought of it first, but Reyes had the right of it. Genji needed this.

The door to the house opened, and Ren stepped out, shivering as he pulled his coat zip up. “Hey. You tried this chocolate Genji brought? It’s good stuff.”

Jesse squinted. “Naw, can’t say that I have, but I recognise the label.” He broke off a square of the offered bar and tried it. “Well, now I gotta pick some up when I’m back at base.”

Ren placed the bar on the porch railing, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

“So, like, I’ve been a dick.”

Jesse turned, raising his brows. 

Ren scuffed his boot on the bare boards of the deck. “You know why I’ve been mad at you?”

“Naw, but tell me.”

“Mom died when I was twelve, but she was always gone before that. She was out looking for you.”

“Aw geeze.” Jesse took his hat off to run his hand through his hair. “That would have made me twenty-three or twenty-four. I wasn’t even in the States.”

Renegade shrugged. “You didn’t even try to look for her?”

Jesse sighed. “Kid, mom left my dad and me when I was eight.”

“Oh.” 

“So I kinda felt like she didn’t care.”

“Yeah, fair.”

Jesse held his cigarillo out. “Want a try?”

Ren coughed and choked on his first try. 

“Yeah, you’re not supposed to inhale the smoke.” Jesse pounded on his back. He held his hand out for the cigarillo.

Ren shook his head, giving it a second try. He got the hang of it after his third go. 

Jesse chuckled and lit another cigarillo. 

“I got a scholarship into Harvard,” said Ren, his face still red from the smoke.

“Yeah? Great job, kid. I’m proud of you.” Jesse grinned, pulling Ren in for a sideways hug. 

The brothers smoked in the cold evening and Jesse thought that things were just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally Autumn! The weather is cooler and I can write more!
> 
> But! I just started a full time job. I'll see if I can smash out a chapter a month from now.


	8. Ace in the Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My eternal thanks to evanelric for being an awesome beta, cheerleader and ideas backboard.

**2068 - NYC**

Hanzo woke. The sky was still dark outside. Hou was in his arms, his head pillowed on Hanzo’s arm. He was still asleep, his mouth slightly open with a thin trail of drool running down Hanzo’s arm. He looked adorable.

Then Hanzo heard the noise down on the lower level and realised that was what woke him. He carefully pulled his arm away from Hou’s head and sat up. It hadn’t sounded like a threatening sound - more like someone moving around. He got out of bed and quietly walked over to the mezzanine railing and looked over. 

Richard was up, sitting on the edge of his sofa bed. He had apparently found Hanzo’s pack of cigarettes in the dark and was now holding a lit stick loosely in his fingers. The teenager was resting with his elbow on his knees and he stared at the blank screen of the holoprojector. He didn’t move from this position. 

The loft was lit enough from the ambient light coming in from the large arch windows over the elevator down to the street entrance that Hanzo was able to comfortably pad down the spiral staircase in his bare feet. Richard didn’t notice him until he was at the side of the sofa bed. The teenager blinked in surprised. He flicked the ash into the shallow dish on the coffee table and offered the cigarette to Hanzo. Unsurprised by the offer, as Richard was in his experience as generous young man, he took it and sat beside the younger man on the sofa. He sucked a breathful and handed the stick back. Richard only held the cigarette again, turning back to look at the holoprojector. They sat quietly in the dark.

There was a rustling on the mezzanine and Hou’s sleep tousled head appeared over the railing. “What? Can no one sleep?”

Richard shrugged. “I’m feeling a little restless. I’m giving some thought to heading to Central Park. I feel like beating up muggers.”

“Sounds fun,” said Hou. “Want company?”

Hanzo chuckled softly.

*

It was midmorning when Hanzo finally woke. He was half draped over the edge of the bed. Hou was a ball of heat at his back, so the best way to get up and out was to gently pool out of bed and land on the floor. He rubbed his face, yawning, his back against the bed. He was still in street clothes, and craning his head, so was Hou. Hanzo got to his feet, feeling the stiffness from his limbs and body stretch as he straightened up. He cleaned himself up in the bathroom, noting skinned knuckles with a slight smirk. There was no bruising on his face, but Hanzo could feel a raw cut inside his cheek. He chuckled. It was a good night. He changed into day clothes out in the bedroom and went down the stairs. Peering over at Richard on his sofa bed, he saw a split lip and a darkening eye. The teenager was smiling in his sleep.

*

The next few days were a flurry of activity. Tan Guan Goh, the man with the star-shaped scar over his eye, was arriving in the city soon. Richard’s intelligence gathering indicated that an abandoned riverside warehouse was seeing some activity after months of quiet.

They discussed several options. They had between them two snipers, three close combat specialists, two infiltration specialists and one infiltration  _ expert _ . 

Hou took a long, hard look at himself and realised that he didn’t want to give one of the people involved in his family’s murder the quick death of a sniper shot. Hanzo and Richard were not surprised by this revelation.

Hou quickly shut the conversation down when Richard mentioned that he learned first-hand how to keep someone alive for days. 

“No,” he said firmly. “Clean, executioner style.”

Richard willingly accepted the decision without argument while Hanzo mouthed “first-hand” in Cantonese at Hou. Hou shook his head. 

“This is my plan. I infiltrate the grounds, scout out a safe route, and you two follow after. Hanzo should take rear.”

“I have a suggestion,” said Richard. “After you have made your way in, I will snipe out the lights, cameras and other security. Hanzo-san will go on in during the confusion and I will take the rear.”

“Why you and not me?” asked Hanzo. “My arrows are silent, the obvious choice.”

“But I can afford to waste more lead than you can arrows.” Richard shrugged. “Besides, I haven’t shot my rifle in about six months. I’m feeling an itch.”

Hanzo grunted. “Most young men your age would find a girl or boy if they had an itch.”

Richard blinked in confusion. “Wouldn’t they go see a doctor instead?”

Hou pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a sex thing, Richard.”

He frowned, still trying to parse the meaning. 

“It’s a euphemism for an urge for sex with another person,” Hanzo explained, frowning in turn.

“Oh.” Richard shrugged. “I don’t get those.”

Hanzo worked his jaw, trying to figure out if this was an American pop culture reference. 

“I’m asexual,” said Richard. 

Hanzo looked even more confused. “You?” In his experience, in the environment he grew and trained in, young men Richard’s age were highly sexual. While he could not match Genji’s numbers, Hanzo at seventeen didn’t have to have an empty bed if he didn’t want one.

“Can we get back to work?” Hou knew he would be justified in asking Hanzo for a scalp massage later. Still, they were getting along much better than in the beginning. 

The day arrived. Hou, Hanzo and Richard staked out the warehouse property in various forms of disguise and hiding places for twenty-four hours before the arrival of Tan Guan Goh’s men. They were outfitted with comm pieces and night vision devices. Both Hou and Hanzo felt that the latter was an extravagance and a crutch. They could not, however, deny the usefulness of the goggles. 

They watched and updated the others as Tan Guan Goh’s men came filtering in in small groups or individually. There was still no sign of the man with the star-shaped scar until a cavalcade of four black SUVs rolled past the now guarded gates. Hanzo was the only one in place to see the men and women that alighted the vehicles. They quickly entered the building, but not quickly enough that Hanzo didn’t recognize Tan Guan Goh. There was also an American with that group of Chinese Triad gang members, but Hanzo only had eyes for his past abuser.

“Target sighted and confirmed,” he said into the comm. “I count twenty-five hostiles.”

“I’m heading in now,” said Hou.

“Good luck,” said Richard.

“I’ll be with you soon,” promised Hanzo.

Hou’s soft laughter was their only answer before he went on radio silence.

The sun was only just setting, creating crevices of shadow in the dips and rises of the urban landscape. It was an excellent environment for Hou to make his stealthy foray and to conceal himself while he waited for Richard and Hanzo to join him. 

The sun disappeared fully under the horizon. The streetlights had been on for a while and now filled the approaching darkness with pools of reassuring light. The night air was heavy with anticipation.

Hanzo nodded to himself when Richard murmured into his mic. “It’s go time.”

Though he was out of his line of sight, Hanzo could visualise Richard on the rooftop of a nearby building. He would be positioned as he was countless times over the past weeks as he practiced his aim. The teenager would be lying prone on the ground, his head raised, the stock of his rifle pressed almostly lovingly against his cheek. He squeezed the trigger, absorbing the recoil of his beloved gun and relishing the crack that snapped the air as the bullet broke the sound barrier. Richard would never be the sniper that Hanzo was. He relied too much on scopes where Hanzo just aimed with a practiced eye. 

He could still hit a light in the darkness, however. 

Hanzo watched as the light over the main entrance was shot out, then the camera that was hastily installed the day before, then the other light nearby. Triad gang members spilled out of the building, guns out and ready. Thanks to the night vision goggles, they were all easy targets for five seconds before they found cover, but no more shots rang out. Hanzo knew that Richard was repositioning for better angles to fire at the lights and cameras. Taking out the gangsters was Hou’s job.

The Triad enforcers ducked their heads when shots rang out again, looking up in confusion as they lifted their heads in deeper darkness. They were still too far away for Hanzo to pick out what they were saying into their radios, but calmer heads started ordering the confusion around. Several were sent across the street to the building where Richard was set up. Good thing that Hanzo was still around to provide back-up.

Three arrows found themselves embedded in the foremost gangster’s chest as he crossed the street. Two more in both of his friends as they stared gape-mouthed at his collapsing body. Richard shot out more lights, streetlights and flood lamps. The darkness grew around the gangsters as they ducked their heads again. They cried out to each other, the panic rising in their voices. Several more shots above their heads caused them to duck, then Hanzo and Richard were on the move. 

Richard flew down the external fire escape while Hanzo guarded his descent. He loosed a few arrows at some Triad who were more foolhardy than brave, then Hanzo, too, moved when Richard was on the ground and able to cover him. The gangsters had edged out of their cover by the time Hanzo had reached the ground, but it was already too late for them. Hou was in their midst. 

Using the cover of darkness, Hou darted in and out, quick strikes that left one or two gangsters bleeding profusely before collapsing. Someone remembered that they had a light in a pocket and shone it out, only for Hou to swing a sword and separate that man’s hand from his wrist. Hanzo only saw the hand swing up in the air, followed by an arc of blood and the man’s screams, before he disappeared around the corner and over the fence. He still tread carefully. There had been eighteen men out in the front (six that Hanzo felled, leaving a generous twelve for Hou to play with). That meant there were seven more in the building. They were no doubt listening to their men getting killed and yelling extraneous orders into their radios at the remaining few.

Hanzo, creeping along the side of the building, thought he could hear such yelling. He looked up, and saw a lit window overhead. He scaled the bare brickwork, finding finger- and toeholds with ease. Climbing up, he clung to the wall beside the window and peered in. Though the glass was grimy and cracked, he could make out seven figures. Six were agitated and were moving excitedly. The seventh figure, the American, was seated calmly at a table. He was turning something in his hands and paying no attention to the hubbub. 

The archer dropped down to the ground on soft feet and made his way to the front of the warehouse. He rounded the corner in time to see Hou neatly decapitate the last gang member. Catching Hou’s eye as the smaller man turned in his direction, Hanzo signed the number seven and pointed towards the entrance. Hou nodded and bounded in, soft chittering sounds in his wake. Hanzo slipped in after, arrow nocked and half drawn. A soft rasp of gravel from outside indicated that Richard was close behind him. Once inside the warehouse, Hanzo could not see a hint of Hou. It was a near empty and cavernous place with very little cover, lit overhead with a series of lights. Hanzo lifted his bow and shot them out. The ensuing darkness brought out an outcry from the lit room at the far end of the warehouse. 

Hanzo drew and readied his bow. He loosed it at the first person who stepped out of the room. She dodged the arrow with a muffled cry, but the shaft still appeared in the throat of the man behind her. He gurgled wetly and fell. The woman whipped around and crouched low. It was too late, however, as Hanzo loosed another arrow at her. This time it struck true, right between her eyes.

The rest broke. The last four had spent the last ten minutes hearing friends, colleagues and underlings die. They knew they were next. They broke rank and ran out of the room. Hanzo loosed three arrows. Two landed where they were intended but one scattered overhead, zipping by the crown of her head. 

She wasn’t too agile for Hou to pick her off though. He leapt out of the shadows, his swords in his hands. Hou ran her through with insulting ease, then turned to the last man. He stood where he stopped, his hands up in surrender. It was the man with the star scar over his eye. Hanzo snarled, drawing his arrow back to his ear. He needn’t have bothered. With a high pitched monkey cry, Hou thrust both of his dao swords into Tan Guan Goh’s chest. The warehouse was loud with Hou’s echoing cries. 

There was a slow series of claps. They looked up. Silhouetted in the doorway was the American man in the dark suit. His face was shadowed but the light in the room behind him made his neat brown hair a halo around his head.

“What theatre,” he said. “What majesty and skill. Nicely done, son.”

Hanzo looked around and saw Richard slowly lower his weapon. He looked stunned, surprised. He recovered quickly, walking up to move past Hanzo to stand closer to his father. He didn’t get too close, getting about half way up to the older man before stopping. Hanzo found himself cautiously following after him. .

“Sir. I am glad you enjoyed the show.”

“Yes, I did indeed.” The still shadowed face turned to Hou and Hanzo tensed. “Monkey Man, this has to be the first time I’ve seen you in action since your introduction to the Association. I must say, you don’t disappoint, do you?”

Hou, still in his Monkey King mask, chittered softly, amusedly, before laughing. “No, Gentleman, I do not!” He wiped his swords on Tan Guan Goh’s clothes. He rose from his crouch over the body and sheathed his weapons in one smooth movement.

Then the Gentleman’s attention turned to Hanzo and the archer felt like a wolf in the presence of more dangerous hunter. His regard was long and silent before he nodded to himself. “You look like your father, Shimada-san. My regrets that I could not be at his funeral all those years ago.”

Hanzo gave a shallow bow. “My father said much about you, Gentleman-san.” He nearly slipped and called Richard’s father by the more impolite  _ nom de plume _ of  _ Monster. _

“Most excellent. And will you be joining our prestigious Association? You would be most welcome.”

“I am giving it thought, Gentleman-san.” Hanzo was doing nothing of the sort. 

“Good. Good. And now that the pleasantries are over…” The Gentleman turned to Richard and pointed a gun at his head. It was small and had been concealed under his sleeve, Hanzo thought in the microsecond before he brought his bow up, arrow already drawn to his cheek. 

“No!” Richard moved and Hanzo found he was pointing his arrow at the back of Richard’s neck. The gun followed his movement.

“Richard! Move!” 

“Richie,” chided the Gentleman. “Shame on you, boy. I don’t need your protection.” 

Hanzo couldn’t see Richard’s face but he could hear the smile in his voice. “Sir, I know that you don’t need my protection. This is merely a discussion between the both of us. Shimada-san should lower his weapon.” That last was said softly. 

A curious chirp from Hou made him hesitate before easing the tension on the bow. 

“Good. Now, son, a question.” The gun never wavered and neither did Richard. “Think on your answer carefully. Who are you here as?”

Hanzo saw the slight stiffening of Richard’s shoulders. He didn’t dare to take his eyes off the Gentleman to query at Hou.

“Answer carefully, Richie. As far as I know, Richard St. James, Junior is at a summer training camp. As far as I know, no other member of the Association is on hunt with the Monkey Man. I am either being lied to, Richie, or there is a hunter in my city who is hunting without permission. Which is it, Richie?”

Ricard’s answer was coolly delivered. “You have not been lied to, sir. I am in training with Monkey Man and his companion, and I am not a member of the Association.”

A moment of silence. It dragged on. Then the hand with the gun lifted and the pistol disappeared back into his sleeve. 

“Well played, son.” A hint of approval in the calm voice. “That hair is atrocious, Richie. Be sure to fix it before going back to school.”

“Of course, sir. It is merely a disguise.”

The Gentleman gave off an air of indulgent amusement now. “Yes, that shade of green is not quite  _ de rigueur _ is it?” He turned to Hou, not waiting for an answer. “Your timing is impeccable, Monkey Man. A moment sooner and Mr. Tan and I would not have completed our business.” 

Hou gave a rolling chirp in reply from his cross-armed pose against a wall. “It was nothing, merely professional courtesy.” He looked deceptively calm but Hanzo knew he could spring out in a heartbeat. 

The Gentleman’s features were still shadowed by the brightly lit room behind him. All Hanzo could note of the Gentleman were his tall, strong frame, his salt and pepper hair and his finely tailored suit. He was as tall as Richard, but where his son had a runner’s build, the Gentleman had a more stocky appearance, like a boxer or wrestler. He now gave the impression that he was smiling. 

“As you were, gentlemen.” He brushed by, making his way to the entrance. The clear click of his heels stopped when he was halfway there. Neither Hanzo, Hou or Richard had moved. “Ah, Richie. Do make sure that you do not hunt on your own. You are quickly approaching the age where you should make your own requests to operate in my territory.”

“Of course, sir. I understand.”

“Shimada-san, I do hope to see Monkey Man reccomend you for membership. You will find our company to be quite gratifying. And Richie, fix your hair by tomorrow. Since you are in town, I want to show off my young protege and son. I’ll pick you up from your mother’s building.”

Then he left, the echoes of his polished shoes lingering in the air. Hanzo opened his mouth but Hou shook his head. 

“Gather what records and computers you can find. We need to leave now.”

Richard went into the room his father had vacated without a word.

Hanzo again turned to Hou for answers but was met with a headshake. “Later. Please.”

He bowed his head to Hou’s urgency and went to help Richard.

 

*****

 

**2076 - Watchpoint Gibraltar**

Adrian sat down with Winston, Ana, McCree, Dr. Ziegler and the former RAF pilot, Lena Oxton. Hanzo also attended as an intermediary. Adrian had raised a brow at the obvious absenteeism of the previous Strike Commander, but no explanation was given and Adrian could read between the lines. Whatever the future of Overwatch was to be, Jack Morrison would not be part of the leadership. 

First on the menu, he needed to know just what Dr. Winston doing in regards to Overwatch’s legal status. He’d given his sometime professor enough warning on why he requested this meeting.

Eyes were on the uplifted gorilla. Winston wiped his glasses and sighed. 

“Our political status is indeed dire. We have loose agreements with several world governments but we operate covertly and on a case-by-case basis for the most part.”

“Oh, Winston,” said Dr. Ziegler. 

“We have little to no authority, and, I have to admit, are little more than vigilantes.”

Adrian wished he had a paper bag to breath into, but some movement caught his eye and he saw that Hanzo was taking notes in Japanese script. Hanzo met his eyes and gave him a slight nod. Right. Less panic and more productiveness.

“All right. With the exception of Hanzo-san, none of you here know me, and you don’t know how I can help bring Overwatch into legal status.

“My legal name is Adrian Orion Everard, but you will note that my birth name is Richard Avernus St. James, Junior. I have politicians on both sides of the family and through me you will have access to my mother, Dia Everard, who is a seasoned campaigner for charitable organisations. She can assist in increasing your funding. While I am not in politics, I can find you the people you need to help your cause. Lawyers, political aides and the like.”

Ana held up her hand. “Excuse me, young man. Dia Everard the fashion designer or Dia Everard who was known as  _ La Reverie _ .”

Adrian stilled so slightly that only Hanzo noticed in the split second before the younger man smiled brightly. “My mother certainly is a daydream. Regardless, the first step would be to reach out to governments and authorities that you are already friendly with and lobby with their UN representatives on Overwatch’s merits.”

“Wait, who was La Reverie?” Lena Oxton leaned forward. 

“She was an independent operative who retired around thirty years ago.” Ana eyed Adrian’s slight smile.

“I’m sure I do not know what you mean, Ms. Amari,” Adrian demurred. “Nevertheless, I come to you with this offer of assistance as someone who negotiates the social and political spectrum of the world, and not in my other capacity. My loyalty is to Hanzo-san and his is to Overwatch.”

“And what of your family, young man. You are an Everard.” Ana caught his gaze. For a moment Adrian looked like a mouse in a raptor’s claws. Then he smiled again. 

“Let’s talk in private,  _ mon cher. _ ” 

“I would rather talk to your mother.”

Adrian looked at her again before unlocking his phone screen and handing the device over. Ana graciously accepted the phone and excused herself from the room.

“While Ms. Amari is checking my credentials, I’ve organised a brief resumé on the two lawyers of my acquaintance.” Adrian passed out several print-outs as if his presentation had not just been interrupted. “They can get you started with the groundwork and additional support.” 

Adrian had been very careful in compiling QT Whiskers’ profile. There was an emphasis on his credentials and past performances, and very little on his personal life, something that Adrian hoped wouldn’t come until Whiskers had a chance to meet Winston in person and work his magic.

What Adrian didn’t expect was for McCree to drop his folder on the table and lean forward with a raised brow.

“I got a question. How d’ya know my brother?”

The rest on the table looked up and immediately switched folders. “Oh, it’s young Renegade,” said Dr. Ziegler.

Adrian stared. He felt Hanzo also stir by his side. 

“Ren Tsu is your brother.” Adrian stated, not quite believing the words that came from his mouth. 

“By the heavens, I see it now,” said Hanzo. 

Adrian blinked. “It’s in the jaw,” he said.

“The shoulders,” said Hanzo.

Jesse looked at them both.

“Adrian and Renegade were roommates at Harvard,” Hanzo supplied. “Adrian and I have a standing invitation with the Tsu family to spend Thanksgiving and Lunar New Year with them.”

Jesse continued to stare then looked at Adrian. “I don’t recall Ren saying anything about a Richard or Adrian at college.”

Adrian sighed. “That’s because he called me Dick Face for two years.”

Lena giggled.

“Then after?”

“After those two years? I… Heh.” Adrian smiled ruefully. “I contracted a near fatal injury and had to drop out of study for health reasons.”

It was interesting to watch Angela and Jesse’s faces as they twisted in understanding while Lena and Winston merely nodded.

“No, I mean, I ain’t heard Ren say anything about an Adrian.”

Adrian snapped his fingers. “They call me Ads.”

McCree stared first at him then at Hanzo. He grinned. “Well dang. You mean I’ve been talking to the famous Ads and Sugar Daddy all this while.”

Hanzo groaned. 

“What’s this?” Lena leaned forward, smelling gossip.

“For the love of…” Adrian stood, his face burning red. “I think I need a break, excuse me.” He limped out of the room, onto the landing outside Winston’s office. He leaned against some crates, breathing in the cool sea breeze. 

What a fucking travesty.

He pulled out his pack and lit a stick with a cheap lighter. Flame was flame no matter the vessel. Adrian wasn’t aiming to impress anyone with silver cases and lighters. He tucked away the lighter and filled his lungs with smoke, wishing that it was acrid enough that his eyes stung.

No such luck. 

He could hear Ana talking animatedly at the entrance to the lab below. Snippets of French floated up to him, and it sounded more like she was catching up with an old friend than interrogating a suspect. 

Great. 

He was going to fail, Overwatch was going to remain an illegal operation, and his sensei was going to be a hunted man.

More so of one, he amended. 

Adrian took another pull of his cigarette, eyes locked on the blue patch of sea that he could spot from between buildings.

And he was going to kill Yin and Ren. 

Slowly.

Adrian was entertaining thoughts of deep desert pits and flesh eating ants when McCree stepped out on the landing behind him, followed by Hanzo. Adrian saluted with his cigarette. Hanzo reached for the lit stick and took a breath as the gunslinger grinned somewhat abashedly. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, Ads. I forgot m’self for a moment there.”

Hanzo passed the cigarette back to Adrian. 

“It works to your favour, Adrian. Now Winston and his committee feel that they know you a little more.”

Adrian sighed. “That’s true.” He took a smoke and held the cigarette up for Hanzo. He raised a brow at Jesse. “Speaking of your siblings, Hanzo and I were thinking of hiring Yin as our PA.”

He took a petty delight in how McCree paused to look at the both of them. 

“That so?”

Hanzo took hold of the cancer stick, neither of them jumping as Genji landed on the crates at their backs. He lowered himself to a crouch over them.

“Yes,” said Adrian. “She knows four languages, has good business sense, and she can blend into most populations into the world.”

“And she can shoot around corners,” added Hanzo.

“Very important skill,” agreed Adrian.

“I can tell you’re talking about Ricochet.” Adrian and Hanzo looked up at Genji with some surprise. 

“The hell y’all talking about?” 

“You don’t know?” Surprise in Genji’s tone.

Hanzo chuckled, dropping the butt to the ground and stepping on it.

“Oh, this is going to be precious.” Adrian jerked his head at McCree. “Call this number.” 

Narrowing his eyes, McCree pulled out his phone and tapped in the number that Adrian relayed by heart. Two rings went by and the call was picked up.

“Ricochet.” The voice was female, the tone tight but pleasant with a Texan twang. It sounded like she was in a car. “What’s the job?”

“Falcon Yin,” said Hanzo.

“Yin, my love,” said Adrian.

“Hanzo-san, Ads,” Yin sounded pleased and surprised. “What can I do for you?”

“Yin, lovely Yin,” purred Adrian. “This is your brother’s phone.”

“...Ren?”

“No,” said Hanzo. “The other one.”

“ _ Mui mui _ .”

Silence. Then, “Oh nooo... Jesse, hi! Ah, I can explain!”

“Hello, Yin,” said Genji, cheerfully.

“Is that Genji, too? What are all of you doing in one place?  _ Go go _ , I can explain, honestly.”

“This is payback for Sugar Daddy, Yin.” 

Hanzo chuckled again.

“Oh my god, Ads. That was years ago!”

“Ah yeah, sorry ‘bout that,  _ mui mui _ . I kinda blurted it ou-” He paused when a loud  _ bang _ was heard over the line. 

Yin cursed and her vehicle could be heard spinning, the hoverfans roaring.

“I need to go. I’ll call you back later. Promise.”

“Sis...”

“Ren’s ten minutes away. I gotta deal with this.”

The line went dead. McCree looked up at them.

“Falcon Yin is very capable,” said Hanzo, assuring him. “She has sharp eyes and two quickdraws. I would call Renegade, just in case.” He already had his phone out while Adrian was patting his pockets for his own. “What’s his satellite number?” Adrian rattled it off, still patting his pockets. He only found his pack of cigarettes and offered it around (McCree and Genji both refused) before taking a stick and lighting it. Hanzo spoke tersely into the phone as McCree looked on. Adrian smoked nervously.

Finally Hanzo lowered the phone. “Ren is on his way to Yin’s last location. He’ll keep us up-to-date.” Then he plucked the cigarette from Adrian’s fingers and took a smoke. 

McCree frowned. “What I wanna know is why y’all have my brother and sister’s satellite numbers when I don’t have them.”

“I lend them a hand for big bounties, sometimes,” said Adrian, eyeing the cigarette that Hanzo had stolen. “And they give me a hand with larger operations.”

Hanzo tucked his phone away. “I’m sure that Yin and Ren have their reasons for keeping secrets from you. Yin has promised to explain.” The cigarette was passed back to Adrian and Hanzo put his arm around Jesse’s shoulders. “I have every confidence in Yin that she will call you before you see fit to contact Falcon Lee.”

McCree gave a surprised chuckle. “I didn’t even think of that.” He started to head back into Winston’s office with Hanzo at his side. 

Adrian leaned back against the crates, tilting his head up at Genji. He took a deep pull of his cigarette, blowing the smoke away from Genji. “So. How’s your morning been?”

Genji snorted. “Not as exciting as yours looked like. What was that about?”

“I was feeling petty.” Adrian shrugged. “I found out not half an hour ago that Saint McCree was related to my old college roommate and his sister and they referred to Hanzo and myself as Ads and his Sugar Daddy. I had a minor freak out, I’m sorry to say.”

Genji was startled into a laugh. “What is this?”

Adrian briefly explained and Genji laughed again. “So if your close friends call you Ads, what do I call you?”

“You can call me that. I don’t mind, but please don’t repeat the Sugar Daddy comment. It’s rather embarrassing.”

“To you or Hanzo.”

“Either.” Adrian stubbed the butt out on a crate. He felt the weight of Genji’s green visor and he looked up, raising a brow. “I owe your brother a great deal. It bothers me when I feel that respect does not come across.” He held Genji’s gaze for a long moment. “I’m heading inside. Would you like to come with?”

Genji tilted his head. “Does it promise to be interesting?”

Adrian shrugged. “I am this close to just knocking Hanzo-san out and dragging him out of here, so… maybe?” 

A low, amused, chuckle came from the ninja. He hopped off, and in a mirror of Hanzo and Jesse, slung an arm around Adrian’s shoulders. There was a height difference and it caused Adrian to lean uncomfortably on his still splinted leg until Genji lifted his arm and slipped it around his waist. “I am surprised that Angela lets you even move without crutches.”

“The trick is to not let her notice.” He leaned as lightly as possible on Genji’s sturdy body until Genji pulled him firmer against himself. 

“You look ridiculous.”

“It’s just a few more days then this splint is off. Then the fun begins.”

“By fun you mean pranks?”

“By fun I mean the pain of getting back into condition.” Adrian allowed Genji to help move him.

“Ah. I would not know anything about that.”

“Touché!” Adrian grinned. 

There were several hushed discussions at the table when they entered the room. Winston was at the table with Dr. Ziegler and Lena Oxton still. They were joined by Ana, who handed Adrian his phone as he and Genji passed them. Adrian took it with some surprise, having forgotten he’d lent it out. Hanzo and McCree were on the other side of the room, their heads together as Hanzo held his phone up. He caught Adrian’s eye and gave him a slight nod. The younger man breathed a sigh of relief as Genji lowered him into his chair. “Yin is fine.”

“Hmm,” was the only sound Genji made. 

Adrian looked down at his phone then back up at Ana. She smiled at him.

“It was lovely talking to your mother again, young man. I had forgotten what an absolute delight it could be.”

Feeling like an unmoored ship, Adrian tucked away his phone. “Yes, I enjoy talking with her too.” His chair tilted backwards as Genji leaned on the back. To compensate for his leg, Adrian reached down and pulled on the brace to support the limb. There was a momentary wince before his expression smoothed. 

There was a hush from Winston’s end of the table and Hanzo and Jesse returned to their seats. 

Adrian wished he had something to nervously chew on. 

Winston adjusted his glasses. “Mr Everard, this is quite the opportunity that you have brought to us. Accepting your assistance in this will increase Overwatch’s operational capacity and improve the lives of our agents. I would be a fool to refuse your offer of assistance. However I would also be a fool if I were to blindly accept this help without first meeting Misters Whiskers and Tsu.”

Adrian nodded. “Of course. Would you like me to contact them on your behalf? I have discussed this opportunity with them briefly.”

“I would like to be in the same room as you when you make the calls.”

Adrian nodded again. This was going better than expected.

“And another thing. I’ve received several recommendations from my agents that I offer to you an invitation to join Overwatch. Would you like to accept?”

Left field. Hanzo-san couldn’t have been one of those recommendations, they had recently briefly discussed then dismissed the notion outright.

Adrian shook his head. “I must decline. I have too many interests and agendas to give Overwatch the attention it deserves. However, if ever you need a spare gun, I am persuaded that I can sign on as an auxiliary agent. I am best suited for roles in short combat, stealth and infiltration missions and nothing that takes more than a week.”

Winston adjusted his glasses again. Adrian thought he looked both pleased and surprised. “I must say, Adrian, I am relieved. You are for the most part an unknown factor and while you come recommended, said recommendations also come with the caveat of caution.”

Adrian nodded. That was reasonable. 

“That unknown factor being that you tend to lie very easily to your teammates. While I understand that you were desperate and among strangers-”

Adrian cut him off. “I got the job done.” He smiled. “That’s all that matters.” He was going to say more but stilled and quieted when Hanzo placed a hand on his arm. They exchanged a glance then Adrian ducked his head. “ _ Hai, dozo. _ ” 

Hanzo spoke.

“I believe that my student has given his answer. He was, at the time of my rescue and now, a free agent. He has asked for no financial recompense for his time and skills, and has offered to repay for the medical aid provided to him by Dr. Ziegler. Adrian has offered further aid, all pro bono, not because of any desire to see Overwatch succeed, but to further my benefit. If you are concerned that he will turn coat and betray Overwatch, I assure you that he would only do so if I were leading him.” Now it was Hanzo’s turn to pause. “And I would only do so if my loyalty has been paid back in ill and I was betrayed first. I do not envision such an event happening.”

Lena was buzzing. “So, you’re saying we can trust Adrian as far as we can trust you?”

Hanzo bowed slightly. “That is correct.”

Lena stood. “Then I don’t see what else we’re here for.” She flashed a grin at them and squeezed Winston’s shoulder. 

Dr. Ziegler pursed her lips and looked at Genji behind Adrian’s seat, then at Hanzo, then at her patient, Adrian himself. “This is a web of trust. We trust Genji, who trusts his brother, who trusts his student.”

“I trust Hanzo,” said McCree. “But I don’t know if I can trust Adrian to not ditch his team the moment his team becomes deadweight.”

Adrian grinned and leaned forward, jerking the chair up and bringing his feet to the floor. “You can trust me to do what’s necessary when one man’s sacrifice will ensure victory.”

“Adrian-kun,  _ yamate _ .” He looked down, surprised to see Hanzo’s hand still around his arm. He followed that hand up to the frown on Hanzo’s face. Adrian ducked his head again. 

“I suggest,” said Hanzo. “That until trust is built, that we only take Adrian at his offer to help our legal and financial status with his social acumen.”

“I am fine with that,” said Adrian. 

Winston hummed, deep and thoughtful. He looked at Dr. Zielger, Lena and McCree who all gave various responses ranging from neutral to enthusiastic. Adrian wondered what he did to warrant that support from Tracer, but realised that her support was more for Hanzo. That warmed him, and he settled into his seat. His sensei was in a good place.  

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I have not forgotten this fic! Things will be slow as I really want to complete a chapter before posting the next, but full time work has taken up a surprising amount of my free time and what's left is taken up by this cutie I just met. :D
> 
> Regardless, I hope that all of you continue to enjoy this story. Thank you for commenting, the kudos and enjoying my humble little offering to the fandom.
> 
> Also, I have plotted this fic to the end at 30 chapters. We have a while to go before we hit the finish line ;)


	9. Whiplash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter tags:** m/ftm sexual intercourse, gender dysphoria

**2068 - NYC**

Richard spent most of the next morning with his head in the sink. He was desperately trying to wash out the green dye in his hair. Hanzo felt a strange feeling of catharsis watching the younger man try to scrub his hair out. By mid morning, that dark green had lightened only slightly and Richard, groaning, reached out to his mother.

Who was out of town.

Hanzo and Hou were, in turn, having an easy morning lounging on the other sofa, the one that Richard wasn’t using as a bed. Hou had his head pillowed by Hanzo’s chest as he massaged Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo had flung his head back over the sofa arm, watching Richard with half lidded eyes as he dug a thumb into a knot in Hou’s shoulder. There was a soft murmur of pained appreciation from the smaller man.

Richard held the phone to his ear as he nodded miserably. The towel on his head added much much to this picture of teenaged gloom. “No, mother, the green was a bad idea.” He listened a bit more. “Yes, I should have stuck with the blue.” Then after another pause and in a pained voice, Richard said, “Mother please stop laughing, it’s emasculating.” The teenager wandered into the kitchen, his conversation with his mother muffled by distance. Moments later, Richard came bounding out, his mood suddenly lifted. 

“Mother’s gotten me a last-minute appointment at her stylist. I’m going straight to her apartment after. Be back tomorrow!” He was in the elevator in a flash. 

Hanzo enjoyed a moment of silence in the loft. Hou broke it.

“We should look over the computers and phones from last night.”

Eyes closed, Hanzo nodded idly. “That would be an appropriate use of our time.” His hand found another knot, this time in Hou’s shoulder blade. He worked at it to the sound of Hou’s pleased grunts.

“We could watch a movie.”

“Hm. Yes, I would appreciate time spent with you that wasn’t just work.”

Hou returned his hand and took hold of the other. Hanzo obediently dug his now free hand into Hou’s neglected shoulder. 

“Or I can suck your dick.”

It was as if all his thoughts squeezed on the breaks and his mind came to a halt on that dime on the road that had the word ‘sex’ impressed on it. It had been a while. By silent agreement, he and Hou had remained chaste while Richard was in the loft. There was no true privacy between the large bed on the mezzanine and the rest of the loft, so sex was out of the question despite the fact that his treatments had run their course and he was now clean.

“But that won’t take me long because it’s so cut-”

Hou didn’t get to finish that word because Hanzo twisted both their bodies and pinned Hou to the sofa. He growled in answer to Hou’s smirk.

“You were saying?”

“Cute.” Hou gave his nose a small peck.

The growl deepened and in a blur of movement, Hanzo was standing, Hou draped over his shoulder. He carried the smaller man up the stairs, and Hou didn’t have the grace to stop giggling.

“Your butt,” he sang out.

“Stop.”

“It’s cuuuutteeeee!”

Hanzo tossed him onto the made bed. Still grinning that teasing grin, he levered himself up on his elbows. Hanzo stripped off his tee shirt and pushed off his sweats. 

“Shut up and suck this.” He pointed at his cock. It was thick and straight and slowly rising up to point away from his body.

Hou snickered, but crawled up the bed to stop in front of Hanzo. With wicked eyes, he lowered his head to nuzzle his lips over the tip of his cock. It twitched at the slight caress, the foreskin peeling back to reveal the pinkish glans. Hou made a hum of appreciation, his tongue darting out to flick against that exposed tip. Hanzo made a sound between a sigh and a gasp, and Hou gave another teasing grin before taking more of Hanzo’s cock in his mouth. 

Hanzo closed his eyes and sank into the sensation of Hou’s hot, wet mouth. It was a heady temptation for more, and Hanzo pushed in, hitting the back of Hou’s throat. The smaller man gagged, but his eyes lit up in challenge. His hands gripped Hanzo by the hips and he pushed down, letting Hanzo slide past into his throat. 

“Matthew.” It was a breathy groan. Hou couldn’t grin, but he pulled back to suck on the bulbous tip again. He laved attention on Hanzo’s cock, filling his mouth with his length and tasting the bitter salt of his pre-cum. Hanzo’s hand was curled in his hair, tugging with restraint with every sound that Hou urged from him. Hou, himself, could feel the wetness gather in his briefs, though he refrained from touching himself. Finally, he pulled free from Hanzo, a string of saliva still connecting them. Hanzo looked down at him, his brown eyes glazed over. 

Hou took hold of his cock and tugged. “Come here, come on to the bed.” Like a well-heeled dog, Hanzo obeyed. He climbed into the bed with uncharacteristic clumsiness, walking on his knees until Hou pushed him to his side. Then he lay and watched as Hou stood on the covers and stripped off his own clothes. He straddled Hanzo backwards, grinning over his shoulder as he lifted his sex into Hanzo’s face. 

“C’mon, big guy. Earn your keep.”

Hou was gratified when Hanzo took him by the hips and ate him out like a starving man. A starving man does not gorge. He is careful. He savours his meal and eats slowly. He takes his time to caress and appreciate his meal, to lap up juices and to suck gratefully. 

Hou’s moans filled the room, Hanzo’s proud erection standing up near his face, neglected and forgotten. His slender fingers dug into Hanzo’s thighs as he bucked greedily into Hanzo’s face. He could feel Hanzo’s own fingers caress his labia, a light teasing sensation and Hou just wanted more.

He whined, burying his face in Hanzo’s heated skin. His neglected cock bumped against his face and he wrapped his fingers around the shaft. Hou pumped once, twice, Hanzo’s resulting moan vibrating through him. Hou whimpered Hanzo’s name. Then, “More, Hanzo, please, more.”

A light lick then a smacking noise as Hanzo kissed his clit. “More what?”

Hou made a keening noise. He couldn’t deny that his cunt was throbbing, that he needed attention there.

“Hanzo?”

“Mmph?”

“O-one finger in me? Please?”

He paused, then separated with a wet noise. Hou heard him lick his lips. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

Hou nodded, then he remembered Hanzo couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Not... not too deep?”

The kiss on his thigh was soft and understanding. The bite that followed stung and thrilled. The lick after soothed and tickled. Hou huffed a small laugh that turned into a gasp when Hanzo’s mouth found his clit again. He quickly fell into a rhythm as he rocked against Hanzo’s tongue, moaning when he felt the teasing touch around the sensitive flesh around his entrance. Hou lifted his head, breathing heavily, Hanzo’s cock brushing past his cheek. His guts tightened with mild apprehension and he had to remind himself that this was Hanzo who had been nothing but respectful despite their rocky start. Hanzo whose cock looked painfully hard, the pinkish head now flushed a deep red and leaking precum. Hou licked his lips, reflexively jerking his hips again. Then he licked a broad stripe over the tip of that lovely cock. 

Hanzo’s scream was muffled against his sex. Hou laughed breathily and took him again into his mouth. His lover shuddered underneath him, whimpering as he mouthed Hou’s clit. He found his head again after a moment and lapped at Hou’s sex with purpose. The pressure built again, his vagina throbbing, begging to be touched, and Hou mewled around Hanzo’s cock. 

Hanzo parted long enough to ask “Now?” and Hou mewled again, sucking hard as an answer. Questing fingers found his opening again. They were slick with his arousal and one cautiously slid in.

Hou stroked his tongue against the sensitive glans in a thoughtful manner. It was  _ nice.  _ It  _ didn’t _ hurt. Hanzo grunted, both in response to the tongue on the head of his cock and on explorations of Hou’s body. “Tight,” he said, more of an observation than any judgement. He lapped at Hou’s clit, drawing out a moan as he caressed deeper into him, stroking the swollen flesh. Hou arched into the sensation, bucking and moaning, forgetting Hanzo in his passions. A few more strokes and Hou was riding his finger and mouth with abandon, chasing his climax with blind determination. He grew louder, wilder, hungrier as Hanzo found that soft, spongy center of Hou and his cries soon changed in tone. He held his lover as he came, lapping up that precious liquid that soaked his mouth and face, touching and licking until Hou made a soft sound of protest. He lowered Hou to his side and crawled up the bed to him, holding his pliant body and nuzzling his face.

Hou chuckled weakly, curling into Hanzo’s warmth. He made a soft, satisfied sound as Hanzo’s bulk met his approval, lipping Hanzo’s wide chest like they were meant to be kisses. 

“You,” murmured Hou.

“Shhhh. I am fine.” His arousal throbbed for release but it was of no moment.

“Please?”

Hanzo gave a contemplative hum.

“I want to see.”

Well, how could he deny his lover?

Hanzo turned on his back, pulling Hou flush to his side. Hou murmured encouragements as he fisted himself, using his own pre-cum to slick his hand. It didn’t take long for him to come to his own loud orgasm to Hou’s wonderment. He splattered high and his cum landed on his chest, narrowly missing Hou. Hanzo closed his eyes, chuckling.

“Shower?”

“Pfft, yeah.”

*

Hou was quiet after their shower. They settled back into bed for a quick nap before getting back to work, but the smaller warrior was unusually preoccupied. Hanzo held him against his chest. He traced patterns on Hou’s tanned skin, darker than his by a couple of shades. It wasn’t the quiet of exhaustion. Hou with his boundless energy could always outpace Hanzo. No, it was a pensive silence. Hanzo was mildly concerned. Hou was a talker; he didn’t shy away from many subjects. He wondered if he should question Hou about it or wait until he was ready to talk. He nuzzled Hou’s short hair and enjoyed the skin-on-skin contact with his lover. Hou’s body was slight and small but hard with muscle, an absolute pleasure to hold and caress. Hanzo found it no hardship to cradle the smaller man against his chest.

He may have dozed off, because he woke and Hou was supporting himself on his elbow, his hand making idle patterns on his chest. His mouth, however, was an unhappy slash. He opened it, then shut it, dropping his gaze. This was not the brash and optimistic Hou he knew. Hanzo held his chin between thumb and forefinger and kissed him on the corner of the mouth.

“Tell me,” he said.

Hou dropped his head to bury his face into Hanzo’s shoulder. “I  _ liked _ getting fingered in the pussy by you.”

That threw Hanzo for a moment. Then he remembered what Hou said the first time they made love and he tightened his grip around him. 

A small sob escaped from Hou. “Am I a fake? Am I a pretend man? What man likes being touched in the vagina? What sort of man even has a vagina?” He curled into Hanzo’s heat, clutching at him.  

“You do. And you are more of a man than I was at your age.” Hanzo pressed his face into Hou’s hair, his arms making a cage for him. “You are a man by your actions and integrity and honour.”

“Those... are female traits too.” 

Hanzo huffed softly. “Forgive me, you are correct. Let me try again. You are a man because you know you are one. If I were to be gelded, I would still be a man. I am more than my genitalia.”

“It’s not the same. You were born male.”

“I... was also born to rule a clan of prestige and power. What we are when we are born does not determine who we choose to be when we mature. You are not a pretend man. You merely do not have the body that you want yet.”

Another small voice. “Would you like me if I had a cock?”

“Yes.” Sealed with a kiss to the brow.

“What if I decide it’s easier to go back to being a girl?”

Hanzo took a breath. “I think a better question would be if you would like that. I am happy with what makes you happy.”

A long silence followed that. Hou nuzzled into his shoulder. “Maybe I just need more exposure to my vagina?”

“That is also up to you. I do not ever need to touch you there if it causes you distress.” 

The smaller man was trying to burrow into his skin, but Hanzo merely held him and stroked his back. A moment passed and Hou sat up, pulling the coverlet away. He rubbed the misery from his face. “Do you want to see it?” he said though his fingers.

“See what?”

“What I looked like before.”

“If you do not mind.”

Hou reached for his phone, flopping onto his side and pressed his back against Hanzo as he scrolled through the device. The larger man dutifully curled around him. 

“Here, look.” 

Hanzo peered over Hou’s shoulder and snorted. “You’re cute.”

“Aw, c’mon.”

He was, though. Hou in the picture before him had only slightly longer hair than he did now, and was dressed androgynously in a white dress shirt and blue jeans. As far as Hanzo could see, Hou wasn’t wearing cosmetics and and his handbag was in a backpack style.

Hanzo kissed him behind the ear. “How old were you?” 

“Nineteen. Some months before...before.” A pause. “I was trying girl mode one last time, I think.”

Hanzo worked his jaw, trying decide if he needed to filter what he wanted to say.

“Matthew, even your girl mode is masculine. You are definitely not meant to be female.”

“You think so? I mean...the hair.”

Hanzo found his own phone and found his own photo uploads. He had to put his phone down after a while and then it was his turn to hide his face against Hou.

“Hanzo?”

“I was looking for my old images. I forgot that many of them had Genji in them.”

“Oh.” Hou turned and held him.

“You can look, please do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Hou picked up the phone and there was an immediate amused huff. “That green hair. No wonder you found Richard disconcerting.” Then Hou swiped to the next photo. “Ah. Your hair. It’s so long. Like a girl’s.”

Hanzo chuckled. “Yes. There are some days where I miss it.”

Hou studied the picture for a moment. “I see the point you’re trying to make.” 

“Perhaps I didn’t have a point. Perhaps I just wanted to show you how handsome I was.”

“Pffft! Now you’re just fishing!”

Hanzo pressed his grin against Hou’s chest. They stayed like that for the rest of the morning, curled around each other as Hou looked through the rest of Hanzo’s albums.

*

Richard came back late that night. His steps were heavy and he didn’t answer their initial hails.

Hou and Hanzo were in bed, but dressed for sleep. They exchanged a look, not expecting their young partner until the morning, as he said. Hanzo slipped out of bed to look over the railing.

“Richard?” he called out again. 

There was no answer. Richard came from the kitchen under the mezzanine level. Hanzo almost didn’t recognise him, the light from the kitchen made his blond hair glow in a disturbing parallel to his father’s the previous night. He didn’t look up but shuffled past the dining table, past the living area and the gym equipment and to the spiral staircase on the far wall that led to the roof. Hou joined him at the railing and together they watched Richard make his dazed way up the stairs and into the hatch in the ceiling. 

They looked at each other and followed after Richard. Hou grabbed the throw blanket on the back of one of the sofas. He looped the blanket over his shoulder and scaled the outside of the staircase as Hanzo used the stairs. 

“Did he have weapons?” asked Hou. “Did you see if he was armed?”

“He never goes without weapons,” Hanzo replied, but it wasn’t much of an answer. 

They hurried. 

Hanzo was first through the hatch, Hou close on his heels. Outside the climate controlled environment of the loft, it was a hot and humid night. The difference could be felt immediately, like a suffocating heaviness to the skin. It was a still night, with no wind. Sound carried and the  _ pcht pcht pcht _ of a match being struck repeatedly turned their heads and ambient light illuminated their youngest partner very well. He was sitting with his back to them, facing the city across the river. Richard was disheveled in a dark suit and didn’t seem to have noticed them. Hou placed a hand on Hanzo’s arm, silently mouthing “stay” and went over to crouch beside Richard. Hanzo watched as Hou laid aside the blanket in his arms and took the box of matches from Richard. He lit a match and Richard bent forward to touch his cigarette to the flame. Hou settled to sit beside him and after a moment turned to gesture at Hanzo to come bracket the teenager.

Hanzo did as requested, looking at Richard’s blank face as he lowered himself to sit in seiza. The cigarette hung limply from the teenager’s lips, ash gathering on the tip. His eyes were fixed on the city, but Hanzo could tell he was not seeing the lights. 

Hanzo could smell the blood on him. It was soaked into his suit, and Hanzo could see the stains on his white shirt. He met Hou’s eyes and there was a slight nod. 

“Matthew?” He flicked his eyes back to Richard. There was no change to his expression.

“Yes, Richard?”

“I don’t think... I don’t think I’m a good person, Matthew.”

“What makes you say that?”

Richard didn’t answer immediately. Hanzo wondered if he had heard the question.

“I do bad things. I hurt people. I lie a lot. I lie all the time. I lie to my father, to my mother. I lie to you, to Hanzo.” He reached up to take the cigarette and tap off the ash then held it in his fingers. “I don’t mind killing people. Sometimes it’s merciful. But I don’t like hurting people. Father says I do it so well, that I have a gift and I should use it. I don’t mind the screaming. I can tune that out. It’s when they stop that bothers me. It’s like I have cut out their hope.” Richard paused. Hanzo could see the city lights reflected in his eyes and the tears that streamed down silently. Hou was looking grim, his simmering anger a mirror to Hanzo’s own.

“It’s so pointless,” Richard continued. “He just wants their pain. Their deaths mean nothing. It’s like their lives meant nothing. But they did. They had families, they told me about them. But he just wanted to hear them scream. He wouldn’t let me kill them. He wouldn’t let me be merciful. He told me to hurt them again and again and again.  _ And I don’t know why _ .”

Richard fell silent again. A shuddering breath escaped his body on occasion but he was otherwise still and quiet. The cigarette in his fingers burnt out without his noticing. The tears continued to stream down his face. 

Hou placed a hand under Richard’s elbow and looked at Hanzo. The older man flattened his mouth and pushed aside his feeling of unease. Following Hou’s action, he too slipped a hand under Richard’s elbow. They hauled him to his feet and helped him down the stairs. A hushed brief conference between Hanzo and Hou resulted in them leading Richard up to the mezzanine sleeping area and into the large bathroom. They stripped him to the skin and Richard numbly let them. Hanzo elected to stay and help hold Richard up in the shower as Hou found clean clothes. Hanzo watched as the brown water pooled down the drain. He had been in this same situation many times himself, where he would merely look down as he washed clean his body. He propped Richard against the shower wall and helped soap him down. Thankfully, Richard was able to stay upright without his assistance, but Hanzo wasn’t sure if he was capable of processing much.

Hou came back with an armful of clothes as Hanzo was washing Richard’s hair. The water under them ran clear now. They stepped out of the shower as soon as the suds were washed out, dried off with towels and dressed. They put him in the bed between them, Hanzo resting his hand on Richard’s neck much like Hou had done for him months ago. Richard curled on his side, his hand in Hou’s. He slept, eventually. They stayed up, though, Hou and him, sitting in bed, looking at each other with a silent message that said, yes, Richard St. James, Senior was a problem they would need to deal with. 

 

*

 

**2076 - Gibraltar**

“I’m sorry,  _ gogo _ . I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

McCree shook his head even though he knew Yin couldn’t see the gesture.

“Dissapoint me how, ‘xactly?”

“Look, I know you’re so proud of me… and I didn’t want that to change. I mean, me as a bounty hunter is not what you wanted for me.”

“It’s a crapshoot of a life, Yin. I ain’t got much of a choice in how I earn my bread, but you and Ren, you’re educated, and even better, got recognised qualifications. You got good jobs. I don’t get it.”

“ _ Go, _ I’ve been doing temp work for five years. I’ve done everything I can to find a permanent position. Huntin’ is how I pay my bills in between paychecks is all. ‘Sides, I like it.”

McCree rubbed his face and sighed. “So long as you’re happy, I guess. And Ren? He graduated summa cum laude in his class. The heck is he doing hunting crooks?”

“Ren… hates being a lawyer. He thought he’d see bad guys get put away but it’s all politics. This way he gets to do some good, yeah?”

“I guess.”

“Hey, I think I’ll be coming to see you in a week or two, me and Ren. We’ll be bringing Mr. Whiskers with us. I don’t know the details yet, but Ads told me to clear our schedules. If I miss you, you’ll come for Thanksgiving this time, right?”

“I’ll try.”

“You can do better than that.”

“We could be sent on mission at a moment's notice.”

“So I’ll have a plate waiting for you in the oven.”

“Heh. Okay. I will try very hard.”

“Good.” A pause. “So... you and Hanzo-san? That’s hilarious. Remember last Christmas when we said we knew a guy your age that you should meet?”

McCree chuckled, rubbing his face. “I remember. Nice coincidence, that.”

Yin chuckled back. “Ah, speaking of Hanzo-san, I need to go. He wants to talk about the job they’re giving me. I’m so excited. I bet it’s going to be a heckuva lot of travel. Later,  _ gogo.” _

McCree was left looking at the blank screen of his phone. He pinched his nose and decided against giving Falcon Lee a call. He didn’t need to check up like a parent on his younger siblings. He tucked his phone away with a sigh, exchanging the phone for a cigarillo, letting things be for now. Yin was always good on her word.

He lit the cigarillo, hands cupped around the flame, puffing to bring the cigarillo to life. Leaning over the railing, McCree considered joining Hanzo but he was bound to be occupied with his call with Yin. Adrian would be with him and Genji as well. McCree didn’t need to be a fifth wheel. The gunslinger pushed away from the railing, his spurs jingling as he ambled through the doorway. He felt absurdly disconcerted about the whole situation. For months, he and Hanzo had orbited around each other, and that had abruptly changed now that Adrian was on the scene. It seemed to McCree that Hanzo’s entire attention was on the younger man even when they weren’t in the same room. It was a ridiculous idea. It was probably his imagination when it seemed that Hanzo seemed distracted even when they were alone.

It may be his imagination but McCree still didn’t have to like it. He liked that Adrian was so chummy with Yin and Ren even less. It was all too coincidental for his tastes. It was all too convenient that he and Hanzo had been in his spaces, in his family’s home, without him noticing. Then again, he made sure to stay anonymous himself, didn’t he? All those years on the run, he had to sneak in and out of the Tsu ranch like a thief. He impressed on Yin and Ren the importance of his incognito state for their own safety and there weren’t exactly any images of him in the Tsu household. Hell, Yin and Ren didn’t even refer to Adrian and Hanzo by name. He idly wondered what they called him in turn.

Something to talk about when next they met.

McCree found that his feet had been leading him through the base while he had been lost in thought. They had led him straight to the practice range. The gunslinger chuckled. At least he could rely on his boots.

And no, that last thought didn’t make him feel the least bit silly.

Entering the range, he found that he wasn’t the only one with the idea of getting some practice in. Soldier: 76 was there, standing behind and to the side of Hana. The young meka pilot had her firearm out, aiming with both hands at the target. She was in a folding chair, her splintered leg sticking out. The break was much more complicated than Adrian’s, hence the longer recovery period. That wasn’t stopping her from concentrating on her shots, her tongue poking from the side of her mouth. 

McCree watched them for a while, nodding in approval at Hana’s accuracy and rate of fire. Watching them, he got to thinking about mentors and students. He had Reyes and Amari back in the day. Reyes helped him through some tough times, much like what Zenyatta had done with Genji and what Hanzo was doing with Adrian. 

Just cause he could understand it didn’t mean he had to like it, though. 

Before he could ruminate further on that thought, Soldier looked up and jerked his head at him. “You gonna keep standing there or you gonna come here and give this soldier some pointers.”  Hana wrinkled her nose.

“My aim’s good, you guys.”

McCree chuckled as he ambled on over. “It don’t hurt to get a couple of pointers from a pair of old timers, don’t it?”

“Urgh. If you must.”

D.Va lifted her pistol again, ready to shoot but holding fire until instructed. He took turns with Morrisson to critique, correct and praise.

All in all, a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. 

A sour taste returned to his mouth when he made his way through the base and a movement on the roof made him look up. It was Hanzo, Adrian beside him, naturally. They didn’t give any indication that they saw him, on the ground. It looked like they were quietly sharing a shot. McCree watched as they knocked back their drinks, then emptied out a third glass so that the wind could carry most of the liquid away. It looked disturbingly like a libation, a solemn ceremony that he was intruding on. Ashamed, Jesse looked away, tugging his hat low and busied himself with lighting a cigarrillo. He heard his name and he looked up. Hanzo was leaning over, gesturing up. Adrian was nowhere in sight. McCree found himself grinning and even passing Adrian in the stairway couldn’t take that grin away. 

The younger man was already a few steps down when he turned back and called up at him. “St. McCree. I’ll be in Winston’s office in a couple of hours to call Ren and Whiskers. You wanted to be there when we talk to Ren, right? I’ll ping you when I leave for the meeting.”

McCree raised his brows. “Much obliged.” He tilted his hat. Adrian nodded in turn. It seemed to the gunslinger that the assassin was distracted in a way. Solemnly pensive if he didn’t know better. Hanzo was in a similar mood. They shared a single shot glass between them, topped several times and not enough to get them tipsy, but he could tell there was some indistinct emotion in the archer this afternoon. McCree decided to take the plunge.

“So, what’s on your mind, darlin’? I can tell you’re mighty distracted.”

Hanzo sighed. “I apologise. I have been thinking about an old and dear friend. His anniversary was today. I had almost forgotten and so had Adrian. I am wondering how I had let the date slip.”

Now McCree felt like a heel. 

“Aww hell, darlin’. You’ve been busy. No need to beat yourself up on this.”

“That is no excuse. I am not the type of person to let a significant date slide.”

McCree scratched the back of his head. “Nah, didn’t think you were. I know you’re the serious type.” He was silent for a moment. “This a close friend?”

“Yes, very close.” Hanzo didn’t say more. 

McCree opened his mouth. He didn’t know what was going to come out but his phone buzzed at that moment. He mentally cursed the caller, and that turned out to Adrian. “Aw, sorry, darlin’. It’s that student of yours. He says that he’s ready to contact that lawyer and Ren.”

Hanzo nodded. “Then we should go.”

The gunslinger blinked at this pleasant surprise. “We, darlin’?”

“Yes, to mediate if necessary.”

“Pretty sure that young fellow can dig his way out of any hole he falls into. You don’t need to supervise his every move.”

Hanzo frowned at him. McCree wished he bit his tongue. 

“That is true. Nevertheless,” said Hanzo. “It is important that I continue to reassure Overwatch of Adrian’s benevolent intentions.

“Benevolent like that time he took only Hana and Genji to rescue you?”

Hanzo said nothing.

“I don’t like playing third wheel in missions, Hanzo. We almost lost you ‘cuz your student didn’t know how to play nicely with allies.”

Hanzo tilted his head back. “While I do not agree with his actions, I understand his rationale. How would you deal with a strange team that you know little of? You are short on time, and short on trust, you have to work with strangers and your friend’s life is on the line.”

McCree opened his mouth then shut it. He sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, I getcha. I’d hie off on my own ‘s soon as possible too.”

Hanzo stood and held his hand out. McCree took it and climbed to his feet.

“Of course you would. We are men who have learned to rely on our own wits. We would not be who we are if not for that.”

Hanzo was right. McCree knew it, but he still didn’t like it.

The walk to Winston’s office was quiet. McCree knew he was still sulking but he just couldn’t shake the mood off. It didn’t help that he could sense Hanzo’s growing annoyance. That only made him want to dig his heels in. Adrian was already at Winston’s office when they got there. He and Winston were having an animated discussion about mathematical concepts. They waved down at them and Winston gestured them up the stairs. Genji joined them on the landing, having dropped again from the upper floor hatch. 

“Oh, he’s looking much better now,” remarked the cyborg, peering into the room. “He must have eaten something strange earlier.”

Hanzo grunted. “Yes, something like that.”

“What?”

Genji shrugged at him. “Adrian was sick after they spoke with Yin. He made a mess outside the common room, just keeled over and threw up. It was really impressive.”

Hanzo didn’t say anything, but walked ahead into the room. McCree stopped and tilted his hat up. “Huh. They tell you about almost missing someone’s anniversar?”

“No. Is it important?”

“I don’t know yet. I kinda feel that someone’s not telling me something. I hate being left out of the loop.”

“Hn. I’ll keep you informed if I hear of something.”

They entered together. Hanzo was standing beside Adrian, their heads close together as Adrian played with an unlit cigarette in his fingers and Hanzo said something in his ear. They pulled away and went to stand in opposite corners of the room. 

“Hmm,” said Winston. “Let’s contact Renegade first. It seems that Mr. Whiskers is having some difficulty with his mic and camera.”

“That is normal,” said Hanzo in a neutral tone. “Whiskers dislikes being shown on camera and he has an impediment that prevents him from speaking over electronic devices. He will have a text-to-speech program to talk for him.”

“I see…” said Winston. “I’ve already dialed in for Renegade so…”

The call was picked up on the third ring and his brother’s holo appeared.

“Ren, here.”

Jesse waved. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey, Ren, before we get Whiskers on the line, you wanna know who you’re working for?”

“Sock it to me, Ads.”

Grinning, Adrian told him.

There was silence on the other end. Then, “Bro, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Ren.”

“That true what Adrian said?”

“It sure is.”

Again, silence. 

“I’m gonna have my work cut out, huh?”

“Heh, yes, it’s going to be quite the mission. Hello, I’m Winston. Jesse’s told us much about you.”

Renegade nodded. “Good to meet you, Doctor. Heard about you from Ads. Couldn’t shut him up about your lectures. And I see Hanzo-san is there, and Genji, too. Quite the round up. So I’m playing second fiddle to Whiskers? Good, he’s got the patience for bureaucracy.”

“Yes, we’re going to call him up now. One moment.”

  1. T. Whiskers was invited into the call, but instead of a holo image, a default icon stood in the projector. 



“Hello,” said the robotic, generated voice. “This is Quentin Terrance Whiskers. Thank you for understanding the difficulties of my impediment.”

“It is no trouble at all. I’m Winston, you know Adrian, Hanzo and Renegade? These are Genji and McCree.”

There was a pause. McCree could hear faint meowing in the background. 

“McCree with the bounty?”

“Oh no,” said  Renegade. “McCree my brother.”

Another pause. “Please be truthful with me and confirm your organisational needs. Richard has only given me scant detail.”

Winston sighed and sketched out the situation. Whiskers asked pointed and probing questions, chasing the elusive truth like a cat with a laser pointer. The meowing in the background never ceased. 

McCree shook his head. His skull itched from the inside. Beside him, Genji was also restless. He noticed that Hanzo, Adrian and Renegade were watching them. He raised a questioning brow but Hanzo shook his head and inclined his head back to the conversation. Only Winston seemed to be fully engrossed in the discussion with the lawyer. McCree tried to pay attention to the generated voice but all he could hear was that damn cat. 

It came as a relief when Winston wrapped up the holoconference. Ren and Whiskers' images winked out, Ren might have tossed him a salute as a goodbye, but all McCree felt was a growing pressure in the back of his head. Genji, too, was muttering under his breath.

“Why did he not put that cat in another room?” wondered the cyborg.

Winston blinked. “What cat? All I heard was someone murmuring in the background. It was rather incessant, I thought.”

“Naw, it was definitely a cat.”

Adrian and Hanzo didn’t say anything. They were looking anywhere but at each other, mouths twitching suspiciously. McCree felt his phone buzz and frowned at the message from Renegade.

_ Don’t think too much about it. Will explain when I get there with QT. See you in a couple of weeks. _

McCree hated it when people were deliberately being mysterious.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for enjoying my little story! Thank you Evan for squeeing me on, thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos and thank you everyone who loves my characters. I'll try to update once a month from now. I think I can do it. :D
> 
> Chapter notes: I hope I have done Hou and Hanzo's sex scene justice. I hope I have done Hou justice as a ftm. I've tried to ask transgender friends if I had done well or correct, but the trans experience differs from individual to individual, so all I can is hope that I've treated Hou with respect and understanding.


	10. Toil and Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter notes: It is at this point that I realise that I’m writing Gendrian slow burn. Whelp.

**2068 - NYC**

“No, I forbid it.”

Hanzo felt the frown furrow his brow. He was having trouble understanding the words. “You... Forbid it?”

Richard was sitting in bed, his knees drawn up to his chin, shivering despite the blanket wrapped around him. “I... hah.” He exhaled and sucked in a breath to steady his nerves. “My father is my responsibility. I will deal with him when I am ready.”

“And until then he is free to prey on people?”

The boy huddled into himself. “What is a little murder to you?” 

Hanzo bared his teeth, ready to answer with heat but held his tongue when Hou placed a hand on his arm. Richard hadn’t even noticed. He hid his face in the blanket, his hand gripping the edges like a lifeline. Hou, who still hadn’t said anything, took one look at Richard and went down to the lower level. He was back a few heartbeats later, Richard’s rifle in his hands. He removed the magazine, and popped out the round in the chamber. It landed with a dull  _ tmph _ on the bed. Then to Hanzo’s horror, he handed the rifle to Richard. 

“What are you doing?”

“It’s fine, it’s harmless.” 

Hanzo was now horrified over his lover’s casual attitude about handing a weapon to an emotionally disturbed teenager. He watched, as if disconnected from his body, as Richard raised his head, his glazed eyes locking on the firearm, and he reached for it. 

_ And this is how I die _ , thought Hanzo, muscles tensing. 

Richard’s hand closed on the rifle, but far from rising and gunning both Hou and him down, he merely brought it to his body and collapsed to his side. He curled around the gun like it was a body pillow, the stock against his cheek. Hou held up the magazine and the bullet, then jerked his head down the stairs. “He should be fine now. Let’s let him sleep.”

Hou led the way back down, placing the magazine on the table, but pocketing the round. 

“Fine? He is not fine.”

Hou shook his head. “This is not the first time,” he said, softly. “And I have offered to help him before. He won’t have it.”

Hanzo ran a hand through his hair. “I have known him for only a few scant months and even I can see that he is cracking.”

Hou bit his lip. “Cracking, but not breaking.”

Hanzo stared at him. Hou shrugged back. “I’m not disagreeing with you but it’s not up to either or us.” He eyed the mezzanine above them. “But I do want to bring him to his family in Boston. He should be with his mother’s people. I think they can take better care of him.” Hou produced Richard’s phone and selected one of the contacts.

“Who are you calling? I thought his mother is away.”

“His granduncle Donovan. If his mother’s out of town, you can bet so are her brothers.”

Hanzo shook his head, not understanding the connection. Hou shrugged at him but then turned away partially as the call was answered. 

“Donovan Everard? You don’t know me. I’m Matthew Hou Wong…” Hou paused, listening. “The worst I’ve seen him. No, he doesn’t challenge me. My friend?” He looked at Hanzo. “He wants to talk to you.”

Hanzo jerked his head back, surprised at the request. He held his hand out to bring the phone to his ear. “This is Hanzo Shimada.”

“Shimada-san. My name is Eberardo-san. I am asking you this because you will have noticed that Hou-san has the personality of a nurturer and would not understand. From what my niece has told me, you have a more confrontational personality. Does Richard-kun still have fight left in him?” 

Hanzo wondered if there was anything left to surprise him about Richard’s family. That his granduncle spoke perfect Japanese with only the slightest of accents really should not have come as a surprise. He recovered quickly to answer the older man. “Yes, he has fire and the willpower to restrain his bite.”

An exhale of relief. “Good. Please put the phone on speaker so that Hou-san can participate.” Hanzo raised a brow at Hou and tapped the speaker symbol on the screen. Hou pressed closer to him, his smaller body solid against his own.

“Mister Wong, Shimada-san, thank you for contacting me regarding Richard. My nephew is salvageable, I think. Could I trouble you to bring him up to us in Boston? He needs to be among family.”

“Yes, Mr. Everard. That was why I had contacted you in the first place.”

“Good. Good. Take him to the family House. Here is the address. You’ll be met by some of his cousins. I will be by when I’m told he is strong enough to see me. Good day.”

Hanzo handed the phone back to Hou, who in turned shrugged. “We didn’t have anything to do today, right?” He grinned. “Boston’s not far. Let’s pack for a few days.”

“Do we bring all of Richard’s things?”

Hou bit his lip, thinking. “Might be a good idea. He might need to stay there a while.”

“Pack his things, I’ll get our bags ready. I know what you need.” Hanzo treasured the small smile Hou gave him, then they parted. Hanzo pounded up the stairs and passed Richard on the way to the closet. The teenager was still asleep, curled around his rifle. It was not a sight that Hanzo was used to, and possibly never will be. Setting his jaw, he moved into the walk-in closet to pull out and pack clean clothes into a couple of duffle bags. He carried the bags down the stairs to find Hou kneeling on one of Richard’s bags to properly zip it shut. 

“I’m going to look at the garage.” Hanzo dropped the bags by the foot of the spiral staircase and went to the door by the fridge. It opened into another elevator, like the small one on the far side of the loft that led to the street level. This one brought Hanzo to the garage under the loft. The lights came on, powered by sensors, and Richard’s vehicles were illuminated. As promised, there were the two hovercycles, the sports car and the van. All were sleek affairs, even the so-called van. It was not the sensible boxy affair that Hanzo expected, but a large motorhome of the sort that promised at least two double beds.

Hanzo looked at this example of American excess and sighed. He headed back up to the loft. Hou was kneeling on the other bulging suitcase. “How is it?”

“The ‘van’ is enormous and ridiculous.”

Hou sat up, raising his brow. 

“It’s a Winnebago.”

Hou’s face split in a wide grin. “I always wanted to drive one!”

Hanzo sighed. “I’ll go load it up.” He found the keys hanging by the elevator and grabbed the packed bags. Hou finished zipping up the last suitcase then raced up the stairs to fetch Richard.

They settled the teenager in the seats behind the driver’s cab. Richard was sufficiently relaxed that they were able to pry the rifle from his grip. They belted him to the seat and made sure he was warm, then they were off. It was about an hour and half to Boston and they stopped once for burgers.

Richard stirred about twenty minutes to their destination. Hanzo watched as he blinked sleepily out the window then yawned and straightened in his seat. He accepted the bag of cold burgers and fries from Hanzo and chewed absently for a few minutes before he blinked and lowered his burger. “We’re on our way to Boston.”

“To your family house, actually.”

Richard for silent for a moment before nodding and lifting his burger back to his mouth. He finished his burgers and nodded back off. He didn’t wake up again until they reached the end of the long, winding driveway to Everard House. 

Hanzo immediately felt sorry for bringing a Winnebago to the elegant grounds. Everard House looked at least two centuries old. It was perhaps two stories tall and spread out in either direction. Red brick clad the exterior, and ivy clung to the sides and (to Hanzo’s eyes) a ridiculous Greeko-Romanesque exterior of columns on either side of the doors.

Hou gave a low whistle. “I didn’t realise they were old money.” He pulled to a stop outside the front doors and two women stepped out to the porch. There was a small set of stairs that led up to the white doors. Richard was unsteady on his feet when they helped him out of the motorhome. He rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie and then they landed on the two ladies. Hanzo also looked at them. One was very much Richard’s relative. She was several years older than Richard and was tall and blonde, with that same long bodied look that Richard carried. 

The other woman was much shorter with the darker skin of continental India. Her long black hair was coiled behind her head, and her dark eyes looked on curiously at the mismatched group before her.

“Gilberta,” said Richard, swaying on his feet. “You’re a frightful hag.”

“Oh, Richard.” Gilberta came down the stairs and warmly hugged the teenager. She turned to Hou and Hanzo, still supporting Richard with an arm around his waist. “Mister Wong, Mister Shimada, I am Gilberta Everard. Richard and I are third cousins. That’s my fiance, Manissha.” Manissha waved from the top of the stairs. “Thank you for bringing him here. Would you stay a few days? The Magus would like to talk to you, I think.” 

“The Magus?” Hou asked.

“Cousin Donovan.” Gilberta smiled. “Our little nickname.” Richard leaned heavily on her. “I need to settle Richard. Manissha will help you with rooms and the house.” She turned to help Richard up the stairs. He pulled back. 

“Wait, my rifle.”

Hanzo was gratified to see that he wasn’t the only one who had an opinion over the rifle. 

“He’s still doing that?” murmured Gilberta.

Richard leaned heavily against his cousin. “Has your ass always been this big?”

“Good god, Richard.” Hou shook his head but went in to fetch the firearm. Richard accepted it with a gentle sigh. He slung it over his shoulder by the strap and he and his cousin entered the house. Richard murmured something to Manissha that made her laugh as they passed her.

Hanzo looked at Hou as Manissha walked up to them. “We’re staying the night?” Hou nodded and they both quietly introduced themselves to the Indian woman. Manissha Varma stood an inch taller than Hou but was built on curvy, feminine lines. 

“Again, thank you very much for bringing Richard to us. I don’t yet understand much of this family, and they seem strange, but they do care for each other.”

“I feel as though I should apologise for how trying Richard is, but I believe that you already know.” Hanzo’s voice was desert dry.

Manissaha laughed. “Richard is as sweet as a rambutan fruit.” 

“But it still gets between your teeth,” said Hanzo in a disgruntled tone.

“And you need to peel past the bitter, spiky exterior,” added Hou, cheerfully.

Manissha laughed again. “Please, you can park around the back. I’ll meet you there and take you to your rooms.”

“One room,” said Hou.

She smiled. “Your room, then.”

The garage looked like it was once the stables. Their room, when they got there eventually, was comfortably lush in a homey way. There was an attached bathroom and a view overlooking the back of estate. Hanzo noted an orchard not far from the house. The room smelled aired and the bedding was thick and inviting. There was a cool breeze coming in from the outside bringing in the sweet scent of the magnolia trees in the garden.

Hou came to join him by the window. 

“Gosh, it’s nice here.”

Hanzo grunted in agreement. “How long do we stay here?”

“Is three days too long?”

It was a long enough break before they decided on their next move. 

“The Triad will have noticed by now. It will be good to lay low.”

Hou hummed. “Three days here to make sure Richard’s fine, head back to New York, pack up and back to San Francisco?” 

“It is a plan.”

Hou pressed into his side and Hanzo wrapped his arm around him. “Thank you for helping with Richard.”

“It was no effort to help you help him.” He looked at the deep, vibrant pink and pale whites of the flowering trees, so alike and yet unalike the ever flowering sakura of home. The trees were more green than pink and he assumed that like normal sakura, they were spring blooming. “I look at Richard and I am troubled. I see parts of myself in him. He is so pressured by family in similar ways to me that I am concerned. I made so many mistakes. I have many regrets.” Hanzo moved so he could hold Hou in both his arms. “But if I had not left, I would not have met you.”

Hou made a satisfied hum. “Who knows. I am glad to have met you.” He turned in Hanzo’s arms, looked up at him with a smile.

“You make me want to be better. A better person.”

Hou stood on his toes and brought their foreheads together. “You just needed a little push.”

Hanzo exhaled slowly. “I find that optimistic and unlikely.”

Hou pulled away, snorting. “I wish you believed in yourself.” Hanzo didn’t let him get far. He pulled the shorter man against him, his eyes out the window on the magnolia trees. 

“Come with me to Japan.”

“Now? After this? I thought we were already going in March.”

Hanzo paused, his throat suddenly tight. He had not realised that Hou assumed that he would be coming with him again to Hanamura. “No, not for my pilgrimage... for  _ hanami _ ,” he croaked. “I want to show you the sakura.”

“That’s in March too?”

“Yes, however April is best but May is also good.”

Hou looked up, frowning at what he saw in Hanzo’s face. “Did you think I’d say no?”

“I…” Hanzo paused and blew out a breath. “I apologise.”

“Why? I hadn’t said yes yet.”

Hou let out a peal of laughter when Hanzo pushed him into the bed in disgust. That laughter followed him as he stomped out of the room and down the stairs. He ended in the kitchen where Manissha and Gilberta were talking in low tones with a tall Asian man in his mid-sixties. Hanzo noted on closer observation that the man was almost certainly full-blooded Japanese if not for the shape of his brow and nose. The group looked up when he came in and he paused, cognizant that he’d intruded. He bowed a small apology when he was hailed.

“Hanzo-san, I presume.” The older man excused himself from the ladies. “I had hoped to talk to you and Mister Wong. I am Richard’s granduncle, we talked on the phone. Donovan Everard is my name.” He offered a hand to shake. 

“Of course. I remember.”

Hanzo heard Hou jogging up and was a warm presence at his back. “Hey, don’t mean to alarm people, but Richard is having a fit upstairs. He’s moaning and crashing against the door. I’d have gone in but the windows and doors are locked.”

Donovan looked strangely at Hou but stepped aside for Gilberta. She had made an alarmed squeak and pushed past the men.

“Mr. Wong, I presume. Ah... that would be my fault,” said Donovan apologetically. “I had not thought he could sense me here from his room. Shall go we go outside?” He was already heading out the back door. Manissha smiled at them as she scooped butter and sugar into a stand mixer. 

“Tea and cake will be ready by the time you get back.”

Hanzo was still feeling the surreality of the moment but he managed a nod at her. Hou shrugged at him and they followed after.

They walked past the cobbled driveway toward the garage, then past the paved garden beds and onto the grass. Hanzo could see that they were headed to the orchard. The light caught and reflected something shiny in the trees and as they got closer, Hanzo could see that each tree had several glass bottles tied to the ends of branches, each with a pear growing in them. There were several picnic benches in the shady area to the side of the fruit laden trees and Donovan Everard settled himself on one of them. He gestured for them to join him.

“This should be far enough for Gilberta to try to calm Richard down. Young Everard men do this, they can’t help but buck and fight older males.”

“Like young lions fighting for territory,” said Hanzo, remembering what Richard said once.

“Exactly so.” Donovan smiled. “Thank you for bringing Richard back to us. Are the rooms fine? The house does not disturb you?”

Hanzo and Hou shook their heads, curious about the question, but Donovan did not elaborate.

“Ah good. I am glad that you are here despite Richard’s circumstances. What I really wanted to talk about was your family lineage abilities.”

Hanzo managed a neutral, “Oh?”

Hou was much more casual. “Oh, the monkey thing? It’s not that big of a secret.”

“No, Richard didn’t think so.” Donovan smiled gently. “My interest is professional. We Everards have our own mystic lineage.” 

“Richard mentioned but hasn’t given any details.” 

Donovan nodded. “His own abilities have yet to awaken. We’ll see how they are presented when he turns eighteen. We have our own little rituals and he will be initiated into them.”

“How… common are families like this?” Hanzo asked.

Again that gentle smile. “I have heard of only five more families like this in America. There are possibly more. I have not made a intense study of it. However, I heard of seven families in Japan with interesting abilities when I travelled in my youth. The Shimada is one of them, yes. I am sure that you know of a couple more.”

Hanzo paused. “Only one, the Oshiro clan. My mother’s family.”

“Shadow-workers,” Donovan nodded. “And you do not inherit any of that ability? Curious.”

“No, I would not, as I am of the Shimada clan, not the Oshiro.”

Hou looked at him, a strange look on his face. “Oshiro, as in Kaito and Kasumi Oshiro? You’re related to them?”

Hanzo winced. “I believe that we are third and fifth cousins respectively.” He paused. “I apologise for Kaito if you have met him.”

Hou snickered. 

Donovan watched on with benevolent bemusement, then he said, “Forgive me, but Mr. Wong, you remind me of a student of mine. Rose Shen.”

Hou started. “That was my mother’s name.”

“Ah. I thought her son’s name was Justin.” The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Was?”

Hou took a breath, finding his hand in Hanzo’s large grip. “Justin was my brother. Mom passed five years ago.”

“Ah. You’re the middle child.” Donovan smiled kindly. “Again, ‘was’.”

“Yes. I’m the only surviving member of my family.”

“I’m sorry. May I ask how…?”

Hou steeled himself. “I don’t know the details but I was told that my parents and little sister all died painfully. I want to change the subject, please.”

Donovan’s green eyes were sad. “I apologise. I will remember your mother forever as one of my more curious and brave students.”

“What did she study?” asked Hanzo, curious about Hou’s family.

“Photography. She had an excellent eye.” He smiled. “I was a war journalist before I was recalled home to raise my niece and nephews. Photography was always my first love and I was lucky enough to teach it later in life.” Donovan turned to Hou. “But your mother also had an interest in the supernatural.”

Hou managed a wan smile. “If you are trying to tell me that mom was from a family with a tiger spirit affiliation, I already know. As far as I know, a Shen tiger has still not yet emerged. I think their spirit is still recovering.”

Hanzo raised a brow. 

“The Shen family lost a lot during the Japanese Occupation of Malaysia,” Hou explained. “Including their fighting spirit.”

“Ahh,” breathed Hanzo in understanding. His people were not kind in the war of the previous century, and that was putting it mildly.

“I had thought that with your brother, and now you, and the Shimada family that perhaps that the tiger spirit would also come back to the Shen family.”

Hou shrugged. “Who knows.” He looked at Hanzo. “How many generations did the dragons skip in your family?”

“Only two.”

“Monkey skipped three in mine.”

Hanzo raised a brow again, this time at Donovan. “And the Everards?”

The old man chuckled. “No generations were skipped. We Everards have always taken care that our lineage gifts were passed down. We have three vessels of our gifts this generation. A fourth when Richard comes of age.”

They stared at him.

Donovan smiled back.

“Magus,” said Hou, realising something. “That’s what Gilberta called you. That is Latin? For wizard?”

“That is correct. The study, analyses and execution of the magical arts is my third love.” He continued to smile gently. “Now, bear with me. I believe that magic is coming back and the old lineages are reemerging, several to a family at times. I find this very interesting, and very unusual. I believe even the Oshiro clan have two vessels this generation and they are fairly consistent. That indicates a breedable trait, a theory that is exemplified by the fact that the two of you are the products of two lineages.”

Hanzo shook his head. “That is true for Matthew and myself, yes, but while Oshiro Kaito’s parents were cousins in the clan, Kasumi’s mother’s heritage is unknown other than she was American. I remember my mother talking about it. It was a scandal.”

“A mystery for another time,” murmured Donovan. “Nevertheless, could I beg more of your time to appease an old man’s curiosity?”

Hanzo exchanged a look with Hou and there was a universal shrug between the both of them. Hanzo would tell that Hou was curious despite his casual body language. He turned back to the older man. “Matthew and I are amenable.”

“Thank you.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the shade of the orchard, answering Donovan’s questions as best as they could. Manissha came out with tea and slices of cake. She stayed for a while, sharing a cup of tea with them as they paused in their conversation. She updated them on Richard’s condition (less crude and more subtle in his remarks towards the patient Gilberta) before leaving with the tray of dirty dishes.

Hanzo refrained from telling the old man the details of the ceremony that brought the dragons to him, and Donovan refrained from pressing for details. 

With typical casualness, Hou shrugged and said that the only act of him becoming Hou was the death of his brother and him putting on the mask.

“But you have other family, cousins and uncles, aunts and so forth? Why do you think the mask chose you over them?”

“Could be that I’m a better fighter than them.” Hou grinned. “And that’s the truth. Another truth, the mask chooses only men from my family. I was assigned female at birth. Apparently I’m man enough for the mask.”

Donovan looked thoughtful. “I remember from my reading that one of the aspects of the Monkey King is his shapeshifting abilities. Perhaps your own transformative nature also appealed to the mask.”

Hou looked like the idea had never occurred to him.

“But what interests me is that neither of you are concerned that you’ve inherited powers from your mothers’ families.”

“Well… The power stays in the family, it doesn’t flow out,” said Hou, uncertainty in his voice.

“That is correct,” said Hanzo with certainty. “If I were to marry out and change my name, my children would not have my dragons.”

Donovan tapped his lower lip. “That is very interesting.”

“Very old fashioned and patriarchal since it was generally daughters who were married out,” said Hou, cheerfully. “I mean, you Everards would know, surely.”

“No,” Donovan shook his head. “The Everards are a matriachy and a matrilineal line. The women do not marry out and very few men marry in.”

Hanzo squinted. “If that were the case, then Richard…”

Donovan chuckled. “Richard’s parents have never married, and I believe, do not intend to. They are engaged, and have been for almost two decades. My niece named her son after his father as a gift to the man. One, I dare say, he has not appreciated. Richard is an Everard despite his last name. He belongs to us.” That last was said with finality.

“Then why do you let that monster get near him?” Hanzo asked, frowning.

The old man quirked a tired smile. “Every family needs a warrior, Hanzo-san. Richard’s mother chose a man who would give her a child he could train to fight. You cannot tell me that you did not have an upbringing of vigorous training.”

Hanzo slowly exhaled. “I will not raise my children the way I was raised. I will not make them to hurt other people for my gratification. I will not break their minds. I will not-” Hanzo rose from his seat and was arrested in his movement when Hou placed a hand on his arm. He looked at Hou’s steady eyes. Hanzo swallowed, and sat back down.

Donovan looked at him with a knowing expression. Hanzo looked back helplessly.

“We are aware of St. James’ the senior and we are aware of what he thinks as training that he inflicts on Richard.” Donovan gave them a faded smile. “Believe me when I say that he will not be allowed to do that for much longer. My niece is fast running out of patience. If Richard does not kill his father first, she very well may.”

“Wait,” said Hou. “You’re actually pushing for Richard to kill his father? That’s messed up.”

“It’s an unofficial tradition,” murmured the old man. “I killed mine, and Dia killed her stepfather when she was eleven. I am rather glad that the twins and I have always been amicable. 

“Eleven,” said Hanzo, his tone flat.

Donovan shook his head. “He had just killed her mother and was turning next for her. My niece had no choice.”

“Ah.” Yet unsaid was  _ how _ a girl of eleven killed a fully grown man. Hanzo was not sure that he wanted to find out.

Donovan stood. “Well, I think that we all have shared enough family secrets for one day. Perhaps I will catch you before you leave. You have given me much to think about.” 

Hou and Hanzo also extracted themselves from the bench. 

“Please head back to the house. I am parked up the driveway. I can manage the walk by myself. It is a pleasant evening. Do enjoy the rest of your stay if I don’t manage to see you again.” 

He gave them one last smile and wandered off, hands clasped behind his back.

Hanzo leaned his hip against the picnic bench. “Are we sure that Richard is safe here?”

Hou shrugged. “As safe as any place.” He raised a brow. “You cannot protect him all the time, Hanzo. Richard won’t allow it.”

Hanzo shook his head. “I know that I repeat myself, but I see myself in Richard. I feel that he is being pushed to a painful and avoidable destiny.” He was beginning to gain a sense of perspective about his own upbringing.

Hou slipped his arm through his.

It was still bright outside when they made their way back to the house. The pears in the orchard were ripe and fragrant. They stopped to pick some from the higher branches with Hou standing on Hanzo’s shoulders and cradling them in the makeshift basket of his shirt to carry back to the house. The kitchen was empty, though there was evidence of dinner cooking in the oven. Hanzo found a large bowl for the pears then they quietly explored the house. They found several sitting rooms, a library, a great hall, and a large dining room.

“Nobody lives here,” said Hanzo, suddenly, as he turned on the spot in the long dining room. “This house is large and old but even Gilberta and Manissha’s touch is light.”

Hou nods slowly. “I thought it was just me.” They exchanged a look and made their way to the kitchen.

Everyone was there. Gilberta looked up with a tired smile. “Thank you for picking the pears.” 

Richard looked up from where he was preparing a salad. “Did Granduncle talk to you about his Harry Potter nonsense?”

Hou slapped him up the head. “Be respectful to your elders.”

Richard snorted, not minding the slap and going back to his carrot shredding. “It’s all old fashioned stuff. Mother finds her abilities unnecessary and embarrassing.”

Gilberta looked at her cousin and shook her head. She turned to Hou and Hanzo, visibly brightening. “It looks like it’s going to be a cool evening. I thought we could have dinner in the pergola.”

“Sounds good,” said Hou. “Can we help with dinner?”

As Hou chatted with the ladies, Hanzo placed a hand on Richard’s shoulder. The young man stiffened, but relaxed under the touch. Hanzo squeezed once but left his hand there.

 

*****

 

**2076 - Gibraltar**

 

Adrian lowered his legs to the floor and took a breath. The muscle in his right leg felt stiff and tight, and when he experimentally tried lifting his leg, it felt weak. 

Dr. Ziegler set the brace, his intimate companion for the past fortnight, aside. “How do you feel? Is there any pain?”

Her patient gave his leg serious consideration. He lifted it then winced and lowered it. “The muscle is stiff but I think the bone is fine.”

Angela nodded. “That is expected. Exercise will loosen the stiffness. I have slow release biotic bandages for muscle health when you sleep, but only usage will make the muscle supple again. I insist on crutches,” she added pointedly.

Adrian grinned unrepentantly but sighed when Hanzo thrust the implements at him. His mentor was standing to the side, his arms crossed but ready to help Adrian out of the medical bay. Adrian shrugged at him and sighed. He took the crutches and rested his weight on them, his face a perfect blank. 

His doctor eyed that blank face with a distrustful raised brow. She addressed Hanzo instead. “Take it easy on the first day. I will forward you a program to follow. I guarantee you that Mr. Everard will be at full strength at the end of two weeks. The wonders of modern medicine,” she said cheerfully. “I suggest that you work that leg to loosen the muscles today, and massage it if you can.”

Hanzo had painfully strong hands. Adrian winced. The man in question flicked his glance towards him then back at the doctor. “I understand. I have a liniment that will be beneficial.”

Adrian sighed. “ _ Quelle horreur. _ ”

Doctor and mentor ignored him. “Good. I will give you a biotic infused gel. It will also help. I leave him in your capable hands, Hanzo.” Angela then turned to Adrian and smiled. “My door is always open, Mr. Everard.”

Adrian sighed again. “It is a wonder to hear that,  _ mon chérie _ . ” He swung the crutches, his bad leg limping after. He could feel the immediate weakness that the brace had supported and rested his full weight on his good leg. “This is not too bad,” he said when they were out of the med bay. He limped slowly, Hanzo by his side. 

“Not too bad in comparison to what, exactly?” His mentor sounded amused. 

“That time Renegade cracked open my knee. God, it’s the same leg, too.” That had been a total knee reconstruction and  _ two _ months in recovery and rehab.

“Your unlucky leg,” said Hanzo with mock sympathy. “It leaves you without a foot to stand on.”

“Oh. My. God.” Adrian realised the depth of his personal hell.

“I understand that this will make it difficult to, how do they say it? Stick your leggy out.”

Adrian tried to limp faster.

“Where are you going? I have a station set up at the gym.”

“The gym?” queried Adrian, suspiciously.

“Yes. If Dr. Ziegler’s medicine works, you may complete some walking exercises. There are bars you can use to support yourself. As your sensei, it behoofs me to assist you.”

Adrian gave him a flat stare. Hanzo took it calmly, with only a hint of humour in his unsmiling face. “Yes, okay, that was a good one.” Adrian changed direction, swinging his crutches down a different corridor. Adrian found that he missed the brace, especially when his leg started cramping.

“This is awful,” he said.

“I could carry you,” said Hanzo.

“How about ‘no’.”

Hanzo grinned toothily. “I could haul you over my shoulders and you couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Oh my god. You’re in a good mood. Stop that.”

His sensei only chuckled. “Hurry up, then.”

Adrian growled and moved, ignoring his stiff, painful leg as best he could.

Moments later he was at the gym, lying on his back on a padded foam mat, his loose track pants pushed all the way up to his thigh. He cushioned his head with his arms and closed his eyes as Hanzo knelt to massage the medicated gel into his leg. The muscles in his thigh were an unhappy knot. After half an hour of working on the front of his leg, Hanzo helped him turn over so he could work on the back. Adrian didn’t like how he was trembling and this time he let his consciousness sink under. He was vaguely aware of Hanzo humming an unfamiliar tune as he worked ran his gelled hands down the long length of his tendons before digging his elbow into the tense mass of his thigh. Adrian buried his face in his arms and dropped further down until he was weightless and floating. He stayed that way for a while until he heard five snaps echo then slowly resurfaced. Adrian drew a breath and he was  _ there _ .

Hanzo helped him to turn over, and Adrian had the rare luxury of letting the fog fade away before blinking and looking up at his mentor. 

“Try and see if you can move that leg now.”

“ _ Hai, sensei _ .” Those familiar words said many times over the last few years. He winced but Adrian was able to draw his leg up to his chest. It wasn’t easy or without strain but he was able to do it. Hanzo watched him and his face.

“Perhaps that is enough for a few hours,” he conceded. “You need to rest.”

Adrian didn’t want to agree but his sensei was right. He was unceremoniously pulled to a sitting position and propped against the wall. Adrian realised that the clothes he was wearing, his sweats and tank top, were soaked with perspiration. 

Ah.

He gratefully accepted the bottle of water Hanzo handed to him before crouching by his side. Drinking half the bottle, he let his head tilt back until it met the wall. Hanzo was saying something and his mind filtered the words and his mouth replied with appropriate responses. 

Something caught his eye, something high up in the rafters. It caught the light on reflected metal, then moved. It leapt from rafter to rafter then skipped beams to the next, a blur of green streaming behind it. 

It was Genji. Adrian had never seen him move like this before. His back had always been turned or he had always been distracted. 

Time slowed like he had put himself under again, but Adrian was very much conscious. He was in the here and now, though Hanzo had faded away to silence. His awareness contracted and all that existed was Genji in his aerial dance. He was grace and precision, liquid metal one moment, hardened steel the next. He landed silently on the floorboards, then roared like a lion as he brought his sword out. Genji was like a rhythmic gymnast in grace, but was pure strength in form. 

He was steel and light, the dragon’s roar and the butterfly’s whisper.

He was the river that flowed around the rock, and the rock was also him.

Adrian’s heart was a loud thudding in his ears. 

The darkness rose, and he succumbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really couldn't wait a whole month to post this update.
> 
> Thank you, to my beta, Evanelric. Thank you to readers new and old. Thank you for enjoying my silly little fic. Watch your step, the next step is a doozy.


	11. Passions and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: implied drug use, implied torture, explicit jerks and dorks and wiseasses

 

 

**2076 - Gibraltar**

Adrian opened his eyes. 

Dr. Ziegler’s face swam into view. Other figures were nearby but Angela was at the forefront.

“Adrian, welcome back.” She smiled. “You had a fainting spell. How do you feel?”

The world was hazy but he knew one thing. “I don’t faint.”

“That is true,” said a deep, accented voice. “He does not faint. He falls over unconscious in an ungainly heap instead.” _ Hanzo-sensei,  _ his brain catalogued. Adrian raised his hand in a thumbs up.

The good doctor looked mildly annoyed. “Very well, you fell over unconscious in an ungainly heap. How do you feel?”

Adrian considered this. “Lightheaded. As if I fainted.”

Angela drew in a deep breath and let it go slowly. “That is to be expected. What was the last thing you remember?”

Adrian let the memory resurface, scrunching his face in thought. “I was sitting and Hanzo-san was talking to me.”

“That is what happened,” his sensei confirmed.

Angela nodded. “Anything else?”

_ A flash of silver and green, movement like a song rising like a wave then breaking into splinters. _

Adrian shook his head. “No, nothing else.” 

“Well, your heart rate is normal. Do you have a headache? Pain in your chest?”

Again, Adrian shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

“Hmm. I suggest rest, actual bed rest. You have clearly pushed it with your recovery today.”

Still flat on his back on the gym floor, Adrian couldn’t disagree. 

“Do not worry, Dr. Ziegler. I will see that he gets his rest.” 

Good ol’ Hanzo-sensei. He could make the simplest thing sound like a threat. 

Angela nodded. “Excellent.” She spared a smile for Adrian. “But I can see that at least your humour is intact. You’ll be fine.”

“Thank you.” Adrian managed a smile in return. 

The good doctor moved out of the way so that Hanzo could help him up. Someone else moved into the space Angela vacated and Adrian felt his pulse quicken when he recognised Genji’s finely articulated metal hands. Genji and Hanzo pulled his arms around their shoulders and Adrian found himself supported between the brothers. 

Adrian didn’t have the clarity of mind to recall the exchange between the three of them as the brothers brought him to his room, but he thought there was a witty remark from Genji and a flippant reply from himself. He could not remember if Hanzo had said anything at all.

They set him down on his borrowed bunk bed, and Adrian immediately missed Genji’s hands on him. Feigning exhaustion, he barely paid attention to what Hanzo said to Genji, but he noticed when the younger Shimada left the room. 

His heart thudded still.

Heaving a sigh, Adrian pulled off his stained and damp tank. Hanzo helped him with the rest of his clothes before supporting him into the shower. “Just dump me in there to drown,” he found himself saying to his sensei. 

Hanzo snorted, and did nothing of the sort. He set the shower to an acceptable temperature and lowered Adrian to the inbuilt foldaway bench. The metal was unpleasant at first, but warmed under the combined heat of the water and his body. He soaped himself under Hanzo’s watchful eye and sighed.

“I am not going to faint again.”

“Hmm. You say that as if you’re absolutely certain.”

“I am.” Adrian shrugged carelessly. “But stay if you must. What do we talk about?” Christ, he needed a distraction.

“I have some concerns. Let us do some word associations, Adrian.” Hanzo leaned against the bathroom wall, away from the spray that splashed out from the open shower entrance.

“If you wish.”

“Mother.”

“Divine.”

“Colour.”

“Yellow.”

“Matthew.”

“Regret.”

“Genji.”

“Gorgeous.”

There was a moment of silence.  _ Fuck. _ “Fuck,” said Adrian, aloud. “ _ Fuuuuucckk. _ ” He covered his face with his hands. Yes, this was exactly how he wanted his morning to go. Faint like some damsel in distress, then sit naked in a shower as he confessed to his sensei that he found his brother attractive.

Hanzo’s voice took an almost contemplative tone. “You know, Adrian, I cannot say much about your tastes.”

Adrian wanted to die.

“Apart from Yin, your romantic partners have all been dire.”

Adrian couldn't think of what he had done to deserve this.

“And I honestly cannot recommend my brother,” Hanzo continued in that thoughtful voice. “As a young man, he was a fickle lover. I do not know him well enough now to say how he has changed.”

Was it getting difficult to breath? Happy thought. Maybe he might asphyxiate. 

“But perhaps the question I should ask is what are  _ your _ intentions?”

_ I want him,  _ he thought. “None,” he out loud, his hands still covering his face. “I have none. I’m going to sit on this, and in two weeks I’ll go and you won’t see me here again.”

There was silence from Hanzo. 

“ _ Why? _ ”

Adrian flung his hands down. “Why? You have to ask me  _ that _ ? I’m a disaster.”

Hanzo stared at him. “I have never seen you so overcome with feeling that you have fainted, and we went to watch  _ Warhorse _ .”

Adrian set his jaw. “It was just the pain,” he said firmly.

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. “You mean to say that you, Adrian Orion Everard, who have dug bullets out of his body, sewn his own sutures, and sat in his elderly aunt’s living room while she droned on about her corns, bunions and ingrown nails,  _ fainted  _ from a mere massage?”

“Your point?”

“You’re in love.”

Silence while he acknowledged the truth of Hanzo’s words.

“Fuck.” Adrian slumped, defeated. The shower spray started to cool. 

“Is that all you have to say?”

He shrugged. 

“Let us speak as equals, Adrian.”

“This is a bad idea, but very well.”

The changes in the two men were subtle. It was in the shoulders, the tilt of the head, their pose. Hanzo  _ relaxed _ his stance. He became less rigid, less authoritative. Adrian straightened, no longer in the role of the harangued student with his eyes sharpened and his jaw set. 

“Let’s get me out of this shower before I’m as shriveled as my dignity.”

Hanzo snorted lightly and smirked. “I am offering you privacy. Genji has been known to overhear our conversations without my noticing.”

Adrian blew out his breath. “Good point. I’ll survive the shriveling.”

Hanzo sank to his haunches, his feet flat on the ground. “I think that you and Genji will do well together.”

“Have you hit your head?”

He was ignored.

“I wish to make amends with my brother,” Hanzo continued in a slow and measured tone. “And I wish to do that by supporting his happiness.”

“Hanzo, that is only wishful thinking. There is nothing there. I’m just the new, bright and shiny toy. Genji will forget me once I leave.” It was unfair how that clutched at his heart.

“Are you certain?”

Adrian took in a sharp inhale. “Yes.”

Hanzo looked steadily at him. “Then we have nothing else to discuss. Let me help you out.” He reached out and turned the now-cold spray off. Adrian accepted the towel and patted himself dry before accepting Hanzo’s help out of the cubicle and back into the open of the room. It was a few awkward steps to the bed. His leg had stiffened to the point where Adrian didn’t even want to think about it. The bandages helped, and he gratefully accepted the dry clothes that Hanzo helped him into. Adrian plucked at the tank with it’s indie band logo on the front. The logo had an intertwining dragon. “This used to be mine.”

“And now it’s mine. You were unvigilant of your wardrobe.”

Adrian acknowledged the truth of this.

“And I have retrieved my tie.”

This was received with a sigh. “You destroy my good work.”

“A little bad taste is fine, Adrian, as long as you enjoy the item.”

“Lies. Also, that thing is indestructible. I’ve done everything short of burning or cutting it. It’s even stain resistant. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve tried to use it as a garotte. It still won’t break, twist or deform.” Adrian pulled the blanket to his waist, propping his hands under his head. “It’s cursed,” he declared. “Could you hand me my phone and earbuds before you leave?”

Hanzo made a humming sound. “It is not cursed. I would not wear a cursed item. I did, however, commission a shaman to ensure that spirits would protect my treasured tie, and make sure that no harm came to it.”

Adrian lifted himself on his elbows. “No. No, you did not. That is frivolous waste of resources and that is not like you.”

Hanzo raised a brow and leaned forward. “Are you certain of that?”

Adrian didn’t have the energy to deal with this. He dropped back to the bed and pulled the blanket over his head. He heard Hanzo chuckle and drop something on his chest before leaving. Happily, it was the requested electronics. 

He must have dozed off, because he woke to a twilight room lit by a faint green light. His dreams were vague and fitful. When he woke, it was with uncomfortably cool and damp skin. Adrian rubbed his face and checked for the time. That was when he realised he wasn’t alone in the room. He blinked blearily at Genji, who was leaning against the desk, the lights on his vents dimmed softly. Adrian stared. Genji was beautiful lit by his own lights. He had been thoughtfully tracing the character on the base of the paperweight that Hanzo kept on his desk, but set it down gently by his side when he noticed that Adrian was awake. 

“I had thought to rouse you but I always found it disconcerting when shaken from a dream.” 

Adrian shook his head, sitting up. “It’s fine,” he rasped with a dry throat. His leg hurt, as to be expected, but the biotic bandages seemed to have helped greatly as the ache was less than before.

“Dinner is soon,” the cyborg announced. “Hanzo sent me to fetch you.”

Adrian blinked. Damn the man. He sighed. “Could you help me into the shower? I’m not presentable.”

“Do I need to watch you shower as well? You may faint again.” Humour seeped into Genji’s flanged voice.

“Christ, no. I can manage.”

“Ah. A pity.” 

Adrian refused to react. Instead he pushed his legs to the side of the bed, his humour definitely descending into waspishness. He pulled off his sweat soaked tank and reached for his crutches, only Genji was already there, ready to take his weight. Adrian grabbed fresh clothes by the illumination of Genji’s lights and was helped into the little ensuite for the second time that day by a Shimada.

“I had always meant to ask,” said Genji. “What are these paired circular scars on your back?”

Adrian blinked, not expecting that question. He had to think a moment. “Six of them? Ah, a previous boyfriend liked to display me in his art exhibit. He would hang me from the ceiling in various poses.”

“That sounds… painful.”

“I wouldn’t know. He also shot up me on heroin and left me hanging up for days.” Adrian paused. “He said I was the perfect model.”

There was silence from Genji.

“Hanzo-san was not pleased when he found me. Poor Dane. A pity. I miss him sometimes.” Adrian shrugged and hopped into the cubicle to perch on his old friend the shower bench. He stripped off, not really caring that he still had an audience, and tossed his damp clothes out before turning the spray on. 

“I can see why you need a keeper if you make such ill-advised decisions.”

Adrian snorted. “Since we’re on embarrassing stories, has Hanzo ever told you about one of his former girlfriends?” He may as well have some fun since Hanzo was set on prodding his tender heart.

“I had overheard one or two conversations on that,” said Genji entirely without shame. “There was… La Maestra?”

“ _ That _ was less former girlfriend and more  _ living horror _ .” Adrian considered shampoo and decided that he needed it. The scent of artificial gardenias filled the ensuite as he sudsed up his hair. 

“I don’t even have the time to list the atrocious things she did. Her random dieting, her cosmetic surgeries, her wild stories. Her real name was Sarah Ansell, she was too rich, too bored and too desperate.”

“Desperate for what?” Genji tilted his head. 

Adrian shrugged. “Attention. She tried her wiles on me, but good luck trying to get seduction to work with me. Seeing myself as a lost cause, she turned her sights to Hanzo. Your brother is a soft hearted fool at times, did you know that?”

Genji chuckled. “No, I did not.”

Adrian snorted. “Things came to a head after a lucrative mission. Hanzo-san made the mistake of telling her of the windfall and her greed got the better of her. She stabbed him in what she thought were his kidneys and stole his credit chips, the same credit chips she already had access to.”

Genji nodded to himself. “It sounds to me like she was an injured soul crying out for help.”

Adrian sighed heavily. “Hanzo was admitted to hospital and stayed for sepsis. She had used  _ nail files _ .” He reached for the soap. “It wasn’t serious, but he was laid up for a few days. I cancelled his chips once word reached me, then I took care of her.”

Genji was silent.

“Fuck, this is a depressing subject.” He scrubbed his hand furiously.

“You killed her?”

“No. I’m not a monster. I gave her a fighting chance. I put her in a room with a fake brick facade over the door, and there was a sledgehammer under the bed. Or she could have torn the sheets into a rope to let herself down the balcony.”

“Or?”

“I also left enough snow for her to OD. Guess which choice she took.”

Silence again. Head turned away from Genji, Adrian scrubbed at his neck. 

“And what did Hanzo do to Dane? Do not tell me you don’t know.”

Adrian paused, looking up at Genji. “Of course I know. Hanzo-san showed more restraint than I did. He destroyed Dane. That’s all.”

“You said-”

“Dane was a sculptor, an artist. Hanzo-san cut the ligaments in his hands. He destroyed him.”

“That is more poetic than I expect of my brother. I did expect this Dane to have been murdered.”

Adrian quirked a flat little smile. “I was a month in the rehabilitation clinic that Hanzo put me in, and when I got out, I had it in mind that I would take care of Dane, look after him. I was a week too late. Hanzo was merciful, the Danube was not.” He shrugged lightly. There was silence as he turned over the bar of soap in his hands.

“I think you had better go off to dinner without me. I’m not good company tonight.” Adrian set the bar in the dish and turned the spray off. He was not prepared for Genji reaching in to grab his hair and tug his head back. Adrian clenched his fists, his leg bunching under his body in readiness. Genji only seemed interested in peering into his face.

“You are a terrible assassin,” the cyborg announced. “You feel too much.”

Adrian felt a flash of annoyance and pressed the flat of his hand on Genji’s chest to shove him away. Genji closed his hand around his before he could complete the action and hauled him to his feet, catching Adrian before his bad leg buckled. 

“Do not worry. I will tell Hanzo you won’t be going to dinner. And then if you are lucky, we will finish watching that movie. If you are not, you will be talking about your feelings to my master.”

“No, I will not. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I talk to my mother. That’s enough.” He dripped all the way to the bunk, catching the towel Genji flung at him. 

“Then I will call your mother for you,” Genji chirped cheerfully. He produced Adrian’s phone.

“No!” Adrian rose, forgot his leg, and tripped when it seized. Genji caught him under the arms and dialed in Dia Everard’s number with his other hand. “No, stop!” The call rang. Adrian tried to twist up, reaching out for the phone while hanging on to Genji. “Stop it! Hang up!”

Genji held the phone out of reach, the green of his visor looking down at Adrian as he clung to Genji’s wide shoulders. He could have sworn the cyborg was grinning at him from behind his mask.

Goddamn it. Hidden grin or no, his heart still thudded.

Then the call was answered.

“Darling. I was wondering if you would call.”

“Ah!” Genji brought the phone to the side of his helm. Adrian retained enough conscious thought to reach impotently for the phone as Genji effortlessly and simultaneously supported him and kept him away from the phone.

“Hello, Dia-san! It is Genji, Hanzo’s brother. I am calling about Adrian.”

“Genji-san!” Never let it be said that Dia was slow off the mark. “I had wondered if we would meet.”

“It is like the sunflower facing the sun, yes? Inevitable.” 

To Adrian’s horror, his mother chuckled, amused. “Ah, charmer. Now what is this about my son?”

“No, no no no,” he pleaded softly.

Genji ignored him. “Adrian has told me he has troubled thoughts about Dane and a girl Hanzo was once with. Since he will not talk to my master, I thought he should talk to you.”

“I see. Please tell Adrian that I am currently in the middle of a meeting, but I will be happy to call back in three hours.”

“I will convey the message,” said Genji with a verbal flourish. “Thank you for your time, I will let you go back to your meeting.” He wisely waited for her to hang up first, then looked down at Adrian. He handed the phone back and patted him on the head. “There. That was painless. We will put some clothes on you. It is not proper for you to talk to your mother naked.”

Adrian let himself be manhandled back to the bunk, unable to decide if he hated or loved the jerk more.

Later, he made sure to have his conversation with his mother in French in case the little shit was eavesdropping again.

 

******

**2068 -  November, Taipei, Taiwan**

 

“Hanzo, I’m cold.”

“Don’t you have a hoodie?”

“Yes, but I’m still cold,” Hou whined. He heard Hanzo make a thoughtful hum over the comm. 

“Do you want me to deliver some hot tea?”

Hou whined again. “Then I’ll be cold and I’ll need to  _ pee. _ ”

“Unfortunate.”

Hou made another unhappy sound.

“Perhaps… a hot bath upon your return?

Hou perked up. “And hot soy milk from the store around the corner?”

“I believe that can be arranged.”

Hou grinned into the night, cheered despite the cold and the altogether boring stakeout. 

It was a soppy, wet evening in Taipei. Hou looked over the night market, one of many in the city, below him. It was teaming with a lively crowd that ignored the drizzle and feasted on the local street food delicacies. There were stalls selling bowls of the famous Taiwanese Beef Noodle soup, the equally famous but much maligned stinky tofu, and Hou’s personal favourite, crispy bottom pork buns. They sadly didn’t have the half egg in the middle of the pork like Vietnamese steamed buns, but the textural crunch made up for it. 

There were families below, with small children and dogs, as well as young people, all enjoying the nightlife.

Hou lurked on the roof, behind the neon signs that advertised businesses and products and whose bright colours contributed to the safe, family-friendly atmosphere. 

Naturally he was here to kill someone. 

Well, chances are that someone would have bodyguards and other support staff around him, so he’d have to kill them too. 

All he had to do now was wait around until his contact showed up and led him to where his mark hid. Hou thought it was really unfortunate that Triad were really wising up on the sudden decimation of key individuals. Their meetings were secret and were getting extremely difficult for Hanzo and Hou to root out. 

What was easier was to find someone within the gang who had a beef large enough to want to betray them. 

It took nearly a month of sifting through the guts of Taipei's underbelly to find Benny Long. The young man had two missing little fingers, a mountain of crippling debt, and a seething resentment at his gang brothers. It had taken another month to sort out if his resentment was genuine. Hanzo and Hou sparked his curiosity with their obvious foreignness, then Hanzo let slip a hint of his tattoo.

Benny thought he was getting recruited into a Yakuza group. He thought that this was his initiation and that all his financial woes were going to be taken care of. 

All he had to do was join in on the meeting, a sizeable gathering of gang heads and their entourage and open the window when the gathering had commenced. Perhaps he thought all they wanted was to listen in, perhaps he thought that he was going to be the new boss of the branch of the group that would be installed in Taipei.

(Not the first foothold attempt by the Yakuza, Hanzo had groused to Hou in private.)

The idea that Benny would betray them had crossed their minds, which was why they had a two part approach. 

Part one started as soon as Hou found Benny in the crowd. Which was now. He spotted the young gangster’s signature bad boy inspired bleached hair as he bobbed through the crowd. Benny didn’t know until an hour ago where the meeting would be held, and even then, all he had was the Metro Subway station he had to be at. The meeting coordinates were sent to Benny only a few minutes before the start. Hou had his eye on Benny. Hanzo was watching out for any tails Benny might have, which led the the second approach, guarding Hou’s six.

Hou wished they had a third set of eyes to watch their backs but they had what they had. 

“I see our boy,” Hou said into his comm. 

“I see him too. I cannot spot anyone behind him.”

“Trailing him now.” Hou crept from shadow to shadow, one eye on Benny, another on the uneven rooftops. He followed Benny down three crowded lanes before he stepped between a stall selling fruit and another selling fried chicken. He entered the building behind the stalls and the next Hou saw of him was that he was in an office advertising tax services. There were fifteen other individuals in that office, human and omnic. Hou watched from his position across the street, crouching low on the roof. He peered at the gathering through his small night vision telescopic lens and gave a low whistle. “Hanzo, Benny came through for us.” He counted five known bosses in that room.

Hanzo grunted into his comm. “That in itself is a miracle.”

“I love how you are such an optimist, babe.”

This time Hanzo snorted. 

“Take care,” he cautioned. “Benny could still betray us.”

“Got an eye on him now.”

“The streets are clear of hostiles.”

“Heading over now. See you when this is over.”

“Of course.”

Hou plucked his mask from under his hoodie and slipped it on. Then he leapt across the street to the buildings on the other side, easily clearing the gap and the bright lights that lined the sides of the buildings. He landed neatly, all four limbs touching the surface of the roof. He looked over the edge of the roof, and eased over, climbing head first like a gecko, careful to stay in the shadow of the lights. He paused when the window he was crawling to was pushed open. He waited five heartbeats before moving then stopped when a gunshot rang out.

“I heard that over the comm,” said Hanzo.

“I’m going in.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled the pin on a flashbang, tossing it into the room. There were shouts, then louder cries when the grenade went off with a deafening bang and a blinding flash. 

Hou dove through the window in the midst of the confusion. He could hear Hanzo in his ear, calling for caution, but then it was time to act. He landed just in the room, crouched over a desk. Fifteen humans and omnics flailed and screamed, Benny on the ground, bleeding from his the hole where his eye was. Poor sod. 

Out came Hou’s swords and out came his screech of challenge and four gangsters joined Benny on the floor, their blood, coolant and oil mingling in egalitarian ruin. 

A shot rang out, but it was wild. Someone else cried out when it missed Hou and entered his thigh. The shooter rubbed her red, watering eyes before raising her gun again. Hou was there and she joined her friends on the ground. 

Ten more to go and things became a blur of flashing steel, choked off screams and pleading cries. Hou was acutely aware of his heart beating a rapid tattoo. He stood, the lone upright person in a room full of dead and dying. He was breathing heavily but was not winded.

“It's done,” he said into the comm.

“Yes, I can see that.”

Hou spun to face the entrance to the office space, his swords raised up. It was the omnic from Hanamura way back in March. He was the same dark metal and red lights, and he thrummed with the barely contained rage that Hou remembered.

That he was here, and was at Hanamura bore uncomfortable implications for Hou.

“Hey, hey, hey, friend! Boy, you get around.”

Hanzo was silent on the comm, understanding that Hou was not talking to him. He tapped a quick code into his mic. Hou understood and didn't reply, knowing none was needed.

“As do you.” The omnic stepped into the room, menace made into steel. He didn't seem to care that Hou still had his swords up and out. Didn't care or didn't see Hou as a threat. Neither of these ideas were things that Hou liked. 

“Such is the life of a high flyer,” said Hou, continuing to keep his tone light and cheerful. He lowered his swords a fraction. “So! How can I help you, friend? Are you a hunter too?”

The omnic barked a harsh laugh. “In a matter of speaking.” He turned his slash of a red visor at Hou. “But you are not my prize. Yet here you are.”

Hou, himself, prized his reflexes. He was flipping backwards and spinning out the window he entered before the omnic could move. There was an aborted cry of frustration and the omnic followed after, diving out the window with equal grace… Right into the faceful of fruit that Hou flung at him. The omnic gave a shout and his wakizashi swung out, cutting the projectiles into neat slices. He landed to the applause of the milling crowd, swinging his head around in confusion. Hou crouched beside the fruit stand, chittering behind his mask before screaming his monkey screech. The clapping crowd stopped, giving him wary looks, but Hou was already throwing more fruit at the omnic.

“Cease that!” The omnic’s wakizashi was still out and its wielder was stunningly fast. Slices of fruit collected at his feet and Hou laughed loudly before he launched himself to hide in the crowd. The omnic followed, but even with precision built into his struts, he was still heavier and broader than Hou. Where Hou slipped easily into the crowd, the omnic’s mere presence caused the crowd to melt away from it. “Not now, McCree!” said the omnic, very likely into his comm. The applause faded away, the crowd sensing that this was not a performance. 

Then a nectarine flew out and caught the omnic in the face. Hou chittered in delight to the omnic’s roar then he was off again. 

“Get back here!” Hou didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that the omnic was leaping after him, following him above the crowd and onto the rooftops. 

That’s where Hou really started to have fun.

Grinning widely from behind his mask, he hurled a campaign of supreme annoyance. Already sticky with fruit juice, he had to deal with Hou’s warfare of attrition. Hou was underfoot, over his shoulders, on his back and rubbing his sticky hands all over his red visor. The omnic roared again and Hou bounded away, guffawing. He narrowly avoided a thrown projectile and disappeared over roof onto the next street. Hou peered up from his spot in a dumpster, watching the omnic case the street and roof for him.

Then watched again as, shoulders down, he left.

Now Hou felt like a heel.

“Hey, babe? I’m safe. I’m heading out to investigate.”

A tap on the mic was his reply. Hanzo was keeping radio silence to reduce signals coming from his unit.

Hou extracted himself from the dumpster, definitely not thinking about how he smelt. He carefully climbed the side of the building and found nothing but the omnic’s abandoned katana, dark grey and red like the rest of him. It was heavy in Hou’s hands, weighty enough that he would have to wield the long blade with two hands. There was no other sign of the omnic. Hou looked around and saw a flash of red high in the sky. Taking the sword and approaching, he saw that it was an apartment building, still in the middle of construction. The red was suspended in the sky and as Hou climbed closer, he found that the omnic was perched on a bare steel beam some twenty meters off the ground.

Hou dropped the sword on the unfinished concrete floor and skipped on over the beam. He settled beside the red and black omnic. He found a nectarine in his pocket and carelessly chomped into it.

“I hate you,” said the omnic, his legs dangling over empty space.

Hou shrugged. “My friend, you’re not a very happy individual.”

The omnic said nothing but his silence was contemptuous. 

“I don’t think you like where you are.”

The omnic looked down at his hands as Hou nibbled on the edge of the stone before tossing the seed away. 

“I do not, but I cannot leave.”

“Last I checked, omnics are free citizens. No one can legally enslave you.”

“What if it is a matter of debt?”

“There are other ways of owing a debt. You know what you need, my friend?”

“What?”

“You need healing.”

Hou was surprised at the derogatory snort that came from the omnic. He was beginning to get the impression that there was more to this omnic than his first impression. 

“I have done nothing  _ but _ heal and get better. I am sick of this life.” The omnic clenched his articulated hand into a fist.

Hou swung his legs like a kid. “Then go. Find something else.”

“ _ Like this? _ ” The omnic leapt to his feet, balancing on the beam. Hou leapt back in response, nimble quick. Then he stared as the omnic ripped his face away and he felt a deep sickness in his gut as he realised that his omnic rival was no omnic at all. His eyes flickered over the man’s scarred face and over his body and it was obvious that there was no possible way all that form fitting armour could be a shell over another person.

“Oh shit, buddy. I’m sorry.” 

Angry red eyes glared at him. “Is that all you can say?” His voice was in normal human tones without the mask, his Japanese accent less omnic affectation and more natural accent.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” 

The cyborg looked down at the milling crowd below them. “You are the first person to apologise. Thank you.”

“Buddy, look, I don’t know who did this to you, but if you hate the place, the people who did this to you… you gotta find your own place.”

“And if there is no place?”

Hou felt a sense of  _ deja vu,  _ something that nagged in the back of his mind. “You make one.” He shrugged at the cyborg. “Buddy, if you ever need a hand, I’m called Monkey Man in some circles.”

The cyborg looked down at the marketplace where somewhere in the maze of streetside stalls and trays of cooked food there was a room filled with dismembered Triad gangsters. “Circles that involve rampant murder?”

Hou shrugged. “I only kill the ones that hurt my family.”

The enhanced red eyes turned to him. “Where is Hanzo?”

Hou was moving before his brain caught up. He turned tail and leapt away, all four limbs stretched out and he was scampering away as quickly. He heard a shout behind him, a roar of rage. There was absolutely no way he could face the cyborg one on one. Hou was more agile and faster but he could tire. The cyborg was stronger while matching his speed. He had to get away, lead the cyborg away from Hanzo. It was no coincidence he was at Hanamura in March and that he associated Hou with the Shimada scion. Perhaps Hou could have weaseled his way out of it, spun a story out of thin air, but he couldn’t risk that no harm would come to Hanzo.

The cyborg’s intent was clear. Hou read murder in his red bionic eyes. His limbs responded to the undertone of threat and violence long before his brain processed the cyborg’s purpose.

He fled down the half completed floors of the building and was about to escape through an opening when the cyborg landed right in front of him, blocking his path. His sword was out, deadly.

“Where is he?” screamed the cyborg. The sword struck out and Hou stumbled back, catching himself as he spun away. The razor sharp blade ate at his hoodie but Hou still scampered away, seeking another opening into the greater city. This half finished building could be his tomb if he stayed. He narrowly avoided a spray of shuriken, and he was out in the open, leaping from building to building, the cyborg hounding him. Hou took a zig-zag path, never keeping a straight route for long but soon he was on the ground, keeping still and to the shadows, hoping he’d lost his opponent before taking off again. He didn’t dare stay still for too long. Whomever the cyborg’s partner was, this McCree, they were both involved with an organisation that built advanced weaponry. 

Hou wanted nothing to do with that organisation. 

Hou hadn’t seen hide nor tail of the cyborg for nearly half an hour when he decided to take a chance to exit the area. He pulled his hood up and tucked his head down and joined the crowd. It was getting late and they were thinning out, heading to their homes like sensible folk. He kept an eye out, and even then he was not prepared for the sudden strike to his leg. He fell with a muffled cry, and the remaining crowd melted away from the sudden appearance of the metal clad cyborg. It had to be a full body prosthesis, Hou thought in the back of his mind. That was the only way it could look the way it did, like a second skin. No wonder he mistook him for an omnic.

“Where is he?” grated out the cyborg. 

Hou pushed himself to his feet, stumbling backwards, but unsheathing his swords. 

The cyborg responded by pulling out his own long blade, effortlessly wielding the heavy sword as he sliced off the blade of one of Hou’s swords in a downward stroke.

“Cheap made in China shit,” gasped out Hou, dropping the hilt. He backed into an alley, falling on his ass. The cyborg followed after, confident that Hou was not going to be moving anywhere with the shuriken in his leg. 

The arrow came out of the night and impacted on the wall above the cyborg. It exploded and masonry and bricks rained above the metal clad man. There was a electronically flanged cry as half a wall fell upon the cyborg. The lights in his red visor dimmed as he was knocked unconscious. 

Hou eyed the fallen cyborg as he pulled out the shuriken from his leg. He used his sash to staunch the bleeding and picked himself up, clutching his one remaining sword. He left the broken remnants behind where they had fallen. He limped over to the cyborg, pressing the tips of his fingers on warm metal of his helmet. He could feel the slight vibrations indicating life beneath the metal, and he bent low, feeling more vibrations over where the ears would go on an uninjured human. Curious, he pressed his ear over the cyborg’s ear.

Hou listened to the comm, then sprang away like it burned. He turned and fell into Hanzo’s arms. The bigger man had climbed down from side of the building and landed on the wet ground with only a slight squelch.

“We’re going.” 

“But…” 

“No, we’re going,” Hou pulled at Hanzo’s arm, leading him out of the alley. “He’s been hurt enough. His people are coming for him. Into the car, you’re driving.” Hou pointed to a random car parked on the street and pulled out a small device and slapped it on the driver’s door. There was an electronic pulse and the door popped open. Hou’s hands shook too much to drive. He slipped into the passenger’s seat, his hands clutching his sword hilt, not caring that he was bleeding all over the seat. He could see Hanzo frowning from the corner of his eyes; he did not at all like the commands Hou was spitting out. Too bad. “Just drive us away from here. Hurry.”

“Who was that?” Hanzo pulled into the packed traffic with ease. “And see to your leg.”

“Someone who wants to kill you.” He could feel the weight of Hanzo’s glare. “Babe, you know you’re my priority, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

Hou turned to look at Hanzo, his hand leaving his sword hilt to clutch at Hanzo’s sleeve. “You’re my priority and you’re the one I protect. Say you understand.”

“I do.” Hanzo was still frowning but out of concern now. 

“That omnic was trying to kill you. Please tell me you understand that’s all you need to know.”

Hanzo tilted his head back. “And you let him live.”

Hou clutched tighter. “Hanzo, please.”

“I do not like this. I do not like not knowing what you mean.” Hou held his breath. “But I will trust you on this.”

Hou exhaled and dropped his face into his hands. “Thank you.” Hanzo’s large hand rested on his head, carding through his hair. 

“But I will want to know. If not today, at some point. This is my concession.”

Hou wiped his eyes and finally wrapping the sash around the wound. “Yeah. Of course.”

He had no idea how he was going to tell Hanzo that Genji was still alive yet alone that he wanted his brother dead.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you to my beta, Evanelric, and to everyone who continue to read and enjoy my silly little story <3


	12. Masquerades

**2076 -  Halloween**

Genji gave his brother’s costume a jaundiced eye.

“Musashi, anija? Really?”

Hanzo returned his look.

“Cyborg ninja, brother? Really?”

Genji tossed his head. “At least I have not stolen a boat oar from the garage.”

“It is only borrowed and it suits the costume,” said Hanzo in an almost conversational tone. His teeth were gritted, however, much to Genji’s amusement. 

“But your costume is merely your combat gi worn properly.” Genji's only concession to wearing a costume was to stick bits of colourful cardboard to his armour and helmet. He even had a cardboard sword over his back.

“And your ‘costume’ is merely your everyday self with badly shaped cardboard.”

Genji nodded agreeably. “Yes, it is very convenient, don’t you think?”

Hana looked up from her game and popped her gum. “Guys, don’t fight. Both your costumes are shit.”

“Let us listen to Hana, anija. She is very wise, even if she is wearing her tights on her head.”

The young MEKA pilot flipped him a rude sign and went back to her game. 

“We are going to lose this competition because none of you are any good at crafts,” Hanzo growled.

Genji waved an airy hand. “It is no one's fault that McCree recruited everyone who had the slightest skill with a needle.”

The challenge had been issued just days ago. In the spirit of competition and team building, groups had to be formed and costumes made out of existing wardrobes and objects found on base. Nothing extra could be bought unless it was already owned, and weapons were not allowed as part of the costumes.

To Hanzo's shock, McCree had reared his competitive head and recruited Angela, Mei and Lucio into his team. Reeling from McCree’s betrayal, Hanzo grappled for Genji, Hana and Adrian. While Genji was indifferent and Hana was unskilled, Hanzo’s ace in the hole was Adrian. Adrian, who had clung to his mother’s side as she rose to prominence in the fashion industry while he was only a little boy. Whom Hanzo knew could actually follow a pattern and sew a full outfit.

It was just a pity for Hanzo that Adrian had already decided on a costume. 

The brothers turned their heads when they heard a clatter in Adrian’s room. Hana, choosing to sit in a wheelchair for the evening, popped her gum again. 

“I’m fine!” Adrian called out, his voice muffled through the door.

Hanzo’s sigh was heavy and Genji gave his head a curious tilt. Then the door opened and Adrian limped through. Genji registered Hanzo’s disappointment with unbecoming glee.

“That is just a suit. One of your suits.”

Adrian tapped the side of his nose. “Ah! But look.” He pulled on his glasses.

Hanzo stared. “Yes and?”

“Nothing?” Adrian sighed, then reached into the room to pull out a clear plastic raincoat and his walking stick. The stick had a paper mache axehead on the end.

Adrian grinned.

“Guess!”

“No.” Genji was amused at how horrified Hanzo looked.

“I’m-”

“Do not finish that sentence!”

“-an investment banker!”

Hanzo stared again. He looked at the clear plastic raincoat, the prop axe head, then again at Adrian as he produced a business card.

“Do you like it? The colour is bone and the font is something called Silian Rail.”

“I hate you,” Hanzo whispered.

“You express your love in strange ways, Sensei,” said Adrian, cheerfully.

Hanzo pinched his nose for one long moment then turned on his heel and stalked away.

Genji let out a wheeze he’d been holding in while Hana looked up, confused. “I don't get it?”

“Ah, little sister, I will need to introduce to you Classic American Cinema.” Adrian snickered then stopped. “Why do you have your leggings over your head?”

Hana have him a flat look. “I’m a rabbit.” 

“And you’re a wonderful rabbit!” 

Hana’s eyeroll was epic. “I’m gonna join Hanzo.” She narrowed her eyes. “The two of you are being weird.”

“Yeah?”

She frowned at them and shrugged, rolling herself away on her chair. 

“What do you think she meant by that?” asked Genji.

Adrian made a dismissive hand gesture. “Not a clue, but I’m not sure why Hanzo-san is so miffed. We’re going to smash this competition.”

“Are you sure you are not too subtle?”

The assassin looked down at his very normal looking clothes. “I’m not sure what you mean. I’m practically broadcasting ‘psychopathic serial killer’.” 

“Perhaps fake blood?”

Adrian gave him a look. “This suit is Hugo Boss. He dressed Nazis. I’m not sure how much more of a hint I can give.”

Genji made a wheezing sound. “Have I shown you my prop sword?” He unhooked the length of cardboard from his back, the “blade” wrapped in aluminium foil. 

“Oh my god, that is such a shit costume. I’m so very proud of you.”

This time Genji broke out in a loud laugh and clapped Adrian on the back. The slender man stumbled slightly, but grinned widely. 

“Come, we shall be shit together.”

The night turned out better than Genji expected... and altogether worse than McCree and Hanzo expected. Both men eyed the other’s team and drank worriedly from their cups. Genji, on the other hand, was able to lean back and bask in the genius of his cardboard creation, and he was able to watch Adrian caper around the room. 

It was even more amusing to watch Hanzo and McCree view Zenyatta’s team entries and despair. Genji stretched his ruined mouth into a wide grin under his mask. His master, the dark horse, had come racing from the back to snatch victory from both McCree and Hanzo. Zenyatta had a surprising knack for pageantry, and the same went for Reinhardt, Ana and Torbjorn. It didn’t help that both McCree and Hanzo were failed by their teams. It wasn’t so much the lack of skill on the part of McCree’s team, but that Mei had come down with a fever and both Angela and Lucio had focused their attention and energies on her. 

It really didn’t help Hanzo’s mood to come a distant second. He and McCree were a morose couple on opposite sides of the decorated common room, spirits dampened by defeat and kept there with liberal application of alcohol. Hanzo was joined on his couch by Hana, still with her tights over her head in makeshift bunny ears, her nose buried in her gaming unit and comfortable under Hanzo’s heavy arm. Genji could tell her leg was hurting more than usual which explained her quiet mood. 

Adrian, on the other hand, was the picture of vibrant, charismatic energy. He flitted like a butterfly around the room, aping the movie character he was dressed as. Even the older members of Overwatch apart from Jack (who shook his head and sighed heavily) looked bemused as Adrian produced his business cards. 

Genji lost track of Adrian as he went first to McCree to cheer him up, then to Hanzo and Hana. Thankfully Hanzo had eased off the drink by then and was indulgently watching Hana bad-temperedly trounce her game. The blond assassin was missing from the room when Genji next raised his head. He looked around and noticed the door to the veranda had a slight gape. 

Genji melded into the background of the party, using near forgotten skills from his youth. He rose to his feet without attracting notice and wove his way through the thinning crowd to the veranda. He slipped through. It was empty, but he could hear voices nearby. His curiosity truly piqued, Genji leapt for the edge of the roof and looked over. Adrian was there by himself, sitting on the bare concrete. His phone was out and he was cooing at the holo image.

“Look at you! Aren’t you pretty. Are you an opossum?”

A shrill giggle of delight. “No! I’m a mouse, daddy! What is your costume?”

“Daddy isn’t wearing a costume, sweetie.” Adrian grinned widely. His dirty green eyes flicked towards Genji then he jerked his head over to his side. Genji raised a brow and did as directed, climbing over the top of the edge and padding over silently to sit beside Adrian. The little girl caught the movement. The resemblance between her and Adrian was stunning though her eyes were paler than his. His fingers twitched, hesitating, then he reached up and unfastened the parts of his mask, letting the night air kiss his bare face.

The little girl watched with wide eyes. “Who’s that, daddy?”

“That’s my friend, Genji.”

Genji felt an unexpected warmth at those words and the little girl’s subsequent happy grin and enthusiastic wave tugged at his scarred mouth. 

“Hello, Daddy’s Fwend Genji! Awe you a wobot? You are a nice wobot. I like your costume!”

Genji chuckled. “Yes, I am a nice robot,” said Genji, nodding at the phone. “I spent a great deal of time on my costume. I am very proud of it.” 

The little girl, Adrian’s daughter, giggled. “Mama and Mummy are going to bring me and my sister tricker treat. Mummy says that I am going to get lots of candy and cookies. Do you like my dress?”

Before Genji could comment on the dress, the phone was swept away and the little girl gave a soft wail of protest. She was soothed with the promise of wearing her much awaited mouse ears as a female version of Adrian appeared on the holo. 

“Not a costume, cousin?” She asked, wrinkling her nose. 

“What are you implying, Gilberta?” Adrian’s grin was stretched from ear to ear.

Gilberta leveled an unamused look at Adrian but deigned not to answer. She instead addressed Genji. “Hello, I’m Gilberta Everard, Adrian’s cousin. It is good of you to entertain my child. Thank you.”

“It is no hardship,” said Genji in a breezy manner. “It is a rare delight to make a child laugh.”

“This is Genji, Hanzo-san’s brother,” introduced Adrian. 

Gilberta warmed noticeably. She smiled. “You should have said. You’re practically family, Genji-san.” She turned back to Adrian. “Try to keep out of trouble, Adrian.”

“Me?” Adrian attempted an innocent look.

Gilberta sighed and ended the call. 

Adrian tucked his phone away and leaned back to lie on the rooftop, hands propped behind his head. He sighed happily. “It’s was a good night, Genji, my friend.”

Genji mimicked his pose, thinking of Hanzo and McCree’s separate misery and grinned. “Yes, it was. For you and me.” 

Eyes on the stars above them, he missed the flush of Adrian’s cheeks.

  
  
  


**2069 - February, New York City**

The room was expansive, wide with high ceilings. It was also expensive, lavishly decorated and dressed in white and gold. Masked and perfumed individuals in lush evening wear were making the rounds of the room. Waitstaff navigated around staff with trays of artfully delicate  _ hor d’oeuvres _ and imported champagne. It was an event that was entirely one man’s celebration of his son’s coming of age.

It was also the official ceremony in which Richard Junior would join his father’s Association of Professionals.

“Hanzo, I’m jealous.” Hou lifted a glass of champagne to his lips. “At my induction, all I got was an empty theatre, a dubious singer at the stage, and a clown with a chainsaw.”

“Hmm. Yes, I can see why you would protest.”

“Protest nothing, Hanzo. I was laughing my head off until the ass flipflopped at me and attacked with the chainsaw. All I had to do was keep away until he tripped over his own shoes.”

Hanzo pursed his lips, visualising. “He sounds… clumsy.”

“Oh, he was terribly entertaining, then he started to cry.”

Hanzo made a sound that might have been a snort of amusement.

“Blah blah blah, sob story, he had to try to kill me or die trying or his family wouldn’t get paid.”

Hou took a sip as Hanzo raised a brow at him. 

“You killed him?”

Hou shrugged. “Nah. I asked for a tougher challenge. Then they released a rabid bear at me.”

Hanzo had known better than to take a drink during one of Hou’s stories. Instead he sighed deeply, sadly. “Did they, Matthew? Or are you telling me another tale to shock me.” 

“Would I try to shock you without reason?” asked Matthew. He grinned at Hanzo’s sigh then sighed in turn. “I hate these fancy affairs.”

“You look very nice,” Hanzo assured him. To his eyes, Hou was both elegant and beautiful in a deep red silk jacket that brought out his skin tone. The high mandarin collar gave him a distinguished air and his normal soft hair spikes were smoothed back. The impish look was still there. Nothing could take that away. 

“Babe, people kept mistaking me for a valet.”

Hanzo paused from lifting his scotch to his mouth. “They would only do that if you were loitering around the entrance.”

Hou grinned. “I’ve a pocketful of keys, babe. Want to take a ride with me?”

Hanzo wheezed softly, unable to keep back the wave of humour that Hou had been building in him. 

Hou kept on grinning, victory making his eyes glint. “Have I told you that you’re looking great?”

Hanzo, very elegant in a kimono and hakama with a dark blue haori completed the outfit. He grinned, resting his arm around Hou’s shoulder’s. “You are a scamp, but no, you have not. Thank you.”

The both of them held their masks in hand, a drink in another. It was a lull in the party where they were taking a breather from socialising, and socialise they had done. Between the both of them, they could recognise on sight major, and more successful, figures of the international underworld. The other half of the room seemed to be the bored and wealthy, very likely future clients. Despite Hanzo’s best intentions, he had found himself agreeing. It was the safest course in order to work with both Hou and Richard. 

Speaking of Richard, Hanzo was trying not to let his concern overwhelm him. Neither he nor Hou had seen the teenager in months, though Hou had been in digital contact with him. It bothered him that they still could not spend much time in the States to catch up with Richard. They were due back in Vietnam where Hou could spend the Lunar New Year with his extended family, and a few weeks later, Hanzo intended to bring Hou to view the sakura. 

They argued about that. Hou wanted them to keep a lower profile, and if they were to go to Japan in March, then they had to exercise extra caution and stealth, and that meant breaking established patterns. The encounter with the black and red omnic in Taipei had shaken Hou more than he was willing to admit to himself or Hanzo. It bothered Hanzo that Hou was so affected, but not so much as the slight hitch in Hou’s step did and again, not so much as how insistent Hou had been that Hanzo show mercy to the machine that almost killed his lover. There were many unanswered questions but Hou’s promise to reveal all salved Hanzo’s curiosity for the time being. All that Hou had been willing to admit was that the omnic was working with Overwatch. 

As far as Hanzo was concerned, Overwatch had better things to do than to stalk the movements of a former yakuza kumicho, but he could still admit that there was wisdom in keeping out of Overwatch’s eye… particularly since he damaged their prized assassin omnic.

Let the black and red omnic remember that the next time he makes an attempt to harm Hou. 

Hanzo tempered his pride and protective streak in light of Hou’s obvious concern, but he did wonder at the smaller man’s mercy. Hou had his moments of softness. Hanzo himself was an example of that, but for a foe that clearly meant both him and Hanzo harm? No, there was a deeper mystery there. Hanzo was patient. For now. 

He finished his drink and set it on a table before fixing his mask back on, the short pointed white ears sticking out over his hair. 

Hou gave him a quizzical look. “Ready for another round about the room?”

“Yes, there is some time before St. James’ exhibition. I have little desire to spend it stuck in a corner… and I can see that you are restless to cause more mischief.”

Hou laughed, fixing his mask over his eyes but leaving the lower half of his face bare. His Monkey King mask was shabby compared to the rest of his garb, but it somehow didn’t detract from Hou’s elegant look and instead added to his air of mystery. He sipped from his glass as Hanzo rested his hand under Hou’s neck. Perhaps he was being a little too possessive, and perhaps they were being too demonstrative in public, but there was something in the atmosphere that made him want to buck his culture’s traditions. Let them all see that he and Hou belonged to each other, a partnership for more than work or convenience. 

A stir in the crowd tugged on their curiosity and they moved towards the centre of the room. There was a gathering around a circle sectioned off from the rest of the room with velvet covered ropes. 

There were two men in the circle, both stripped to the waist, and they were exchanging blows. They were evenly matched in height and build, but one was the more skilled of the two. His blond hair was darkened with perspiration, and the sunburst tattoo on his right shoulder blade was new and a mask covered part of his face, but Hanzo recognised Richard with ease. He felt Hou start slightly under his hand as recognition also came to him. Hanzo watched Richard’s bout with a critical eye. The young man had put on some muscle over the eight months since they parted ways, though he still carried a teenager’s lankiness, but his skill was beyond his years as ever. Hanzo nodded with approval as Richard executed moves that had been refined since he last saw him practice. He fought his opponent with cunning, bringing the other man down and twisting his legs around the older man’s shoulders as he grasped his arm and  _ pulled _ . 

The room barely quieted as the pained scream rang out.

Richard’s bare skin was covered in a fine sheen of perspiration as he rose to his feet, making room for the medical team that stepped through the rope barrier. He panted lightly, accepting a towel from an attendant, but he was grinning widely. 

“Good fight,” he said to his opponent. The man on the floor, red-faced and groaning, had no reply.

Richard patted himself off, nodding and smiling as he stepped out of the ring where he was greeted by admirers who passed on their congratulations. Hanzo noted that a few discrete bets were paid off in the crowd. Hou looked back at Hanzo and jerked his head towards the bar. 

The smaller man was frowning as he ordered drinks for himself and Hanzo, his mood having become pensive. 

“What is it?” 

Hou looked up at him through the eyeholes of his mask. “He has never been so sportingly  _ cruel _ before.”

Hanzo picked up his drink and sipped to hide his confusion.  _ What did it matter? _

Hou didn’t notice, but shrugged. “Anyway, he signaled that he’ll find us later. We really should gather and share intel before your induction.”

“Hm. It would be good to confer but I am confident I can meet every rabid bear they throw at me.”

To Hanzo’s delight, that made Hou chortle.

“Babe, I don’t doubt it.” He grinned. “But what if they toss more at you than a rabid bear?”

Hanzo considered it. “You mean…  _ Two _ rabid bears?”

Hou choked on his drink. “Babe, I’m a bad influence on you.”

Hanzo could not protest the truth of this statement. Before he could press his advantage, however, they were approached by one of the formally dressed attendants. The young woman in the severe suit bowed low from the waist.

“Excuse me, Shimada-san. Your presence is requested by Mr. St. James.”

Hou studied the woman before he gestured that Hanzo should go. “I’ll find you later.”

Hanzo nodded and followed after the attendant. The woman’s brown ponytail bobbed through the crowd as she navigated the gaily dressed gathering with ease. She brought him to a side room and invited him to sit. Without asking, she prepared a scotch on the rocks for him. “Mr. St. James will join you shortly,” she said, bowing and then left without another word. 

The glass of scotch felt lovely and solid in his hand. Hanzo placed it by his elbow and left it there. He was kept waiting for a few more minutes when Richard was ushered into the room. The younger man raised his brows in surprise but accepted the drink that the female attendant pressed into his hand before she left again.

Richard raised a brow at her back, then gave the room a casual once over before raising a brow at Hanzo who shrugged. He hadn’t checked for surveillance devices but he had no plans to reveal any weaknesses now. Richard shrugged in turn and left his glass on a counter before settling into the seat opposite Hanzo. He’d dressed in a slim fitting suit, but had left off the tie, leaving the top two buttons undone. Like Hanzo, he was also wearing a mask, though his was a simple domino covered in gold gilt. 

“How’s the party? I’ve not yet had a chance to circulate.”

Hanzo made an indifferent gesture. “Matthew feels that the guest list is rather snobby. He claims that his pocketful of keys indicates that they mistake him for a valet too often.”

“Hah! He what?” Richard broke into a wide grin. Hanzo quirked one of his own. 

“He will return them,” he promised, sternly. 

“You will joyride them first, right?”

Hanzo snorted, shaking his head, but grinned.

Richard leaned back, tapping his finger against his leg. He looked around. “Can you fight in that outfit? I don’t like this silence.”

“That statement is almost insulting, but yes, I can.”

The young man grinned again. “Then I am not sure what I am worried about.”

The female attendant came again, this time followed by several others bearing covered trays. The trays were set on buffet against the wall before they bowed and left. 

“Thank you, Celestine,” said Richard.

She merely bowed again before closing the doors behind her.

Richard looked towards the trays and gave his fingers a flick. “Ten dollars that is a civilised manner to present our weapons to us.”

“A wager that I will not take… no matter the low stakes.” Hanzo rose and examined the trays. Several held delicately presented dishes, though others were, as Richard predicted, the weapons that Hanzo had surrendered earlier in the night, along with what he assumed to be Richard’s chosen arms. There were also two sets of katana, both were gaudy with one in black and red, and  and the other in white and red, but Hanzo could see without picking up the blades that the workmanship was undeniably fine.

Richard came up to his side. “A high honour. He’s offered his swords to you.” There was a note of envy in his voice.

Hanzo grunted. “Do both sets belong to your father?”

“No, just the black and red. The other set were my mother’s. She gave them to me for my birthday. It’s clear which set are meant for your use.”

“I do not use the sword anymore.” 

Richard shrugged. “I didn’t say you had to use them,” he said casually, but Hanzo could hear the hint of disappointment.

“I made an oath in my heart to never raise a sword again,” he said, in as soft a voice he could manage.

Richard nodded. “Well, arm yourself. They wouldn’t have put us both in the same room if he wanted us to fight each other.” He reached for his handguns and knives. “No rifle,” he muttered.

Hanzo, for his part, slid his haori off his shoulders and folded it neatly over the arm of a nearby chair before sweeping his hair up into a topknot. He shrugged one arm out of his kimono. The storms and dragon on his arm and chest never looked so proud. He reached for his quiver and finally his bow, testing the strength of the weapon though he had only been parted from it for a few hours. Satisfied that he could not detect any interference, he set it down to pull on his archery glove. He turned to look at Richard, who had knelt to slide a pistol and a knife under his trouser hems. The younger man stood and he was transformed. 

Hanzo nodded with approval. “What is your name in this manner?”

Richard quirked a smile. “I am the Young Gentleman. As for you?”

It was appropriate and fit, though Hanzo had the distinct impression that his father gave him the name. He made no comment, instead raised a hand to the ornate mask on his face. “I am called Okami.” 

The Young Gentleman smiled crookedly, then looked around the room. “What are they waiting for? I’m ready, you’re ready.”

Hanzo crossed his arms, leaning his hip against the credenza and thought of Hou’s rabid bear. 

“Perhaps they are still preparing the stage for us.”

There was a soft click, but it came from the wall opposite the door rather than the door itself. The wall split in the centre and slid open soundlessly. The passageway beyond lit slowly, showing the gradual incline upwards. The hint of a lit open area at the other end of the passageway could be seen from their end, but it was little more than a thin sliver of light for now.

Hanzo looked at the Young Gentleman. He shrugged in turn. “The Gentleman quite enjoys a little theatre. Shall we?”

Okami grunted, unimpressed. “Let us go.” He, in turn, had his fill of theatre in his past life. Theatre was always meant to impress someone else and, in his experience, more often than not ended in bloodshed and tears.

It was always a coin toss as to whether the blood and tears belonged to the performer or the spectator.

They entered the hidden passageway together, shoulder to shoulder, mismatched in looks though united in cause. Their footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet under their feet and a distinct murmur could be heard from the space at the top of the passage. It soon opened up into another waiting room, no less lushly appointed than the one below. Celestine was there, standing beside an open doorway. She bowed from the waist. 

“The arena is ready for you.”

The Young Gentleman paused, taking a deep breath. “They pulled all stops, I see.”

Celestine only bowed again. 

Hanzo looked at the open doorway. The aforementioned arena was a well-lit and open area, but the surrounding audience was shrouded in darkness. Then he realised that they weren’t just audience members but potential employers. Hanzo frowned behind his mask but turned to look at his partner.

Richard had a small smile on his face. “Come, Okami. Let’s go mingle with the Gentleman’s other guests.”

Again, they stepped out as one.

A bright light centred on them as soon as they set foot in the arena. Hanzo felt simultaneously exposed and cocooned by the light. He tried to cover his eyes to peer into the audience, but it was in vain. Though he could hear them, it was impossible to see who was there. Hou might have been ten meters away and Hanzo could not have even picked him from the crowd.

“Welcome.” The voice came from nowhere and everywhere. It was distorted by the projection system, but it was recognisable as the voice in the warehouse almost a year ago: Richard’s father, the Gentleman of New York. “Tonight, we have two august applicants who wish to join my Association of Professionals. Should they survive their test, they will be full members, expertly trained and ready for any hunt you should choose to set. I present to you Okami the archer, and my own son, the Young Gentleman. May they make us proud.”

The spotlight disappeared. Hanzo blinked rapidly and noticed that two figures stepped from the doorway at the other end of the arena. At his side, the Young Gentleman drew two pistols from inside his jacket. 

“Is this to the death?” Hanzo asked in a soft voice.

“Not necessarily. To the victory.” 

They moved apart in response to the other two as they moved towards the centre of the arena. It occurred to Hanzo that while he didn’t know who their opponents were, they had full view of him and Richard for the moments that the Gentleman made his introduction.

Something was wrong. 

Hanzo frowned. Though the arena was well lit, their two opponents were still indistinct shadows as they approached the centre.

Realisation hit him then and when he drew breath to warn Richard, it was too late.

Oshiro Kasumi came at him like a vengeful ghost, her sword out and fury in her eyes. Taken off guard, Hanzo barely had time to raise his bow to ward off his cousin’s attack. He followed the movement with a spin, kicking Kasumi away so he could remove an arrow from his quiver. He ducked and rolled away from her next attack, faintly hearing male laughter in the background, accompanied by frustrated growls and rapid pistol fire. Where Kasumi went, Kaito was sure to be and vice versa. 

“Our two professionals who volunteered for this opportunity are known to you. We have Shade who has chosen to fight Okami and against the Young Gentleman is Shadowblade.”

Kasumi and Kaito of the Oshiro clan. Both were cousins from his mother’s side, though it had been years since Hanzo had last seen them. He remembered that Kasumi had always been closer to Genji. He felt a fleeting pang of sorrow that he would have to spill more of his relatives’ blood.

He didn’t have time to draw his bow when Kasumi came at him again. She stuck swiftly with dual wakizashis. Hanzo parried each strike, suddenly glad of Hou and his own quick reflexes as his sparring partner. She was quick, but Hanzo was stronger. Used to attacking quickly at slower opponents, Kasumi was unprepared for Hanzo predicting her next move. He stepped within her guard as she launched a high attack, tripping her as he twisted her hand behind her back. Though the movement was arrested by the arrow in his hand, her blade still dropped with a startled yell. She recovered in the next moment, twisting back around to aim a kick at his face. It landed, stunning Hanzo, and Kasumi used the opportunity to flip back into the gathering shadows.

Hanzo shook his head clear of the spinning stars, nocking the arrow by feel. He could hear Kaito and Richard’s fight somewhere to his right, but he couldn’t afford to pay them any attention. Not when Kasumi was out for his blood. 

It sounded like Kaito was having fun, or rather enjoying Richard’s frustration. 

He watched every dip and swirl of movement in the shadows in case they heralded Kasumi’s attack. His vigilance was no help. Kasumi came at him from behind. She used long lashes of shadow to distract him and Hanzo cursed as her feint worked, causing him to loose an arrow into the darkness.

Hanzo lost no time drawing another arrow and he grinned widely when he saw which one it was. He didn’t have a chance to nock it when Kasumi was at him again.

“Kinslayer!” she hissed. “You dishonour our shared blood.” She slashed at him with her remaining blade. It was a dull clash of steel and heavy lamellar bow as Hanzo fended her off. “How could you have killed him?” A kick to his knee and he was down with a grunt. He rolled away before she could follow up with her blade. 

There was something here he was forgetting. 

“No matter what, he was your  _ brother _ . How could you choose anything over him?” There was something in this, in Kasumi’s anger that was more than familiar outrage.

A flicker in the side of his eye and he dodged again, but it was only Kaito, clad in black,  laughing as he avoided Richard’s gunshots. 

Then he remembered what it was, why Kasumi was taking this so personally.

He rolled away, disengaging from combat, and ran towards Richard. “We are swapping!” Hanzo drew and loosed his arrow at Kaito. The Oshiro shadow-user was already ducking to the side of Richard’s gunfire. He stepped right into the path of the arrow. There was a scream as it lodged itself in Kaito’s arm, and an echoing scream from Kasumi.

Kaito was not incapacitated, though. He laughed again, stumbling back into the shadows behind him. “We were hoping you had forgotten, cousin.” Kaito spoke in Japanese, his voice disembodied, nowhere yet still around them. Hanzo and Richard moved to stand back to back, and he chanced a quick glance at Kasumi. She was shaking her head, her long hair covering her face. “Or rather, my cousin was hoping that you wouldn’t have been told about our condition. It’s a very sore subject for her.”

Kasumi scowled and drew the shadows around her, disappearing into darkness.

“What is he talking about?” asked the Young Gentleman, his voice low.

Hanzo grunted, wiping a streak of blood from his eye. He was bleeding from at least a dozen places, shallow cuts where Kasumi sneaked past his guard. “Kaito loathes Kasumi. It was well known among the Oshiro clan that he wanted to kill her. To protect her, Kasumi’s father sacrificed himself to bind the two of them. It worked. Kaito can’t kill Kasumi without killing himself.”

“I see a flaw in that plan,” said Richard. Hanzo could hear him reloading his guns. 

“Yes. Now they cannot get hurt without hurting the other. Kasumi’s father paid a hefty price for her safety.”

“Nevertheless, I see how we can win this. Kasumi wants to hurt you. Kaito wants to show he’s superior to me. Let’s swap as you suggested.”

Hanzo had a better idea. “Back Kasumi to the other end of the arena. I’ll take care of Kaito.” He readied three arrows in his hand, one with a bulbous tip. Hanzo drew and released it into the centre of the arena. It pulsed into his hidden earpiece detecting movement. 

“Now! They are coming!”

Richard left his back and raced out as soon as Hanzo gave the word. He was fleet of foot and proved to be agile, taking Kasumi and Kaito by surprise as he danced past them, managing to trip Kaito as he bodily tackled Kasumi. 

“Woops! What’s this? Looks like I have your pig-sticker!” He waved Kasumi’s wakizashi in the air and backed towards the other side of the arena. “Want to play? You’ll have to come and get it off me.”

Hanzo didn’t pay attention to Kasumi’s response. He instead loosed a series of arrows to catch and keep Kaito’s attention. The other man grinned at him, knocking aside the arrows with a flick of his shadowy sword. His other arm was tightly bound to his body, the arrow in it snipped to near the arm. 

“Cousin, please.  _ I _ don’t owe you any ill will. In fact, I’m not here for you. Kasumi is. She loved Genji. The ladies generally do.” He dodged more of Hanzo’s arrows as he got closer. “I understand why you did what you did. We’re much alike, cousin. You don’t even need to kill Kasumi. I just need her incapacitated. It will hurt me, but you can’t make an omelette without cracking a few eggs.”

Hanzo snarled. “I am nothing like you!” He moved when Kaito got too close, blocking the shadow sword with his bow and aiming a kick to Kaito’s chest. 

It connected, the other man flying backwards to the ground, laughing as he levered himself by an elbow, a hand to his sore chest. “You can say what you want, but you are wr-”

Kaito stopped, his eyes widening at the slow gathering of crackling blue light at Hanzo’s arm as he drew back his loaded bow. He scrambled to his feet, backing away from what he knew to be the destructive force of the Shimada dragons. He crashed into Kasumi instead, and Hanzo could see why. At the other end of the arena, Richard was glowing as he gathered white light between his hands. Hanzo could see that his handguns lay in pieces at his feet and he favoured his right leg, evidence of a hard fight.

Their eyes met and they released their power. Their words were lost to the roar of dragons as they saw the glowing orb that Richard had created. They flew across the arena floor, scattering the Oshiro cousins. They dodged the dragons and Richard’s orb, each finding a slip of shadow and disappeared, ceding the fight to them.

Hanzo caught Richard’s eyes again and nodded before breaking contact to look for Hou’s face in the suddenly illuminated audience. He found him almost immediately, a wide grin on the smaller man’s face. Hanzo found himself grinning back.

The voice of the Gentleman of New York broke the moment.

“Welcome the latest additions to our circle of Professionals.”

Richard stood shoulder to shoulder with him as applause filled the arena. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot overstate how grateful I am to all of you guys. My beta, Evanelric, and of you, my readers. <3
> 
> Thank you for reading and loving my dumb OCs <3
> 
> Thank you for loving the canon characters like I do. 
> 
> Here, view this self-indulgent art of Adrian that I commissioned. He's too pretty to keep to myself.
> 
> https://twitter.com/allykathleens/status/944953447601844225


	13. Pawsitive Outcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings for dysphoria and little shits

**2069 - Harvard, beginning of term**

Richard stepped out of his car, a Corvette with a liquid-like quicksilver finish, and watched as the driver of the battered pickup also exited his vehicle. He struggled to keep his cool, instead leaning nonchalantly against the side of his convertible as the clod in a cowboy hat stomped his sheepish way to him. 

“Hey, uh.” The big oaf scratched the back of his head, pushing his hat over his eyes. “Geeze, man. I’m sorry.” He looked at the sleek sportscar that undoubtedly cost many tens of thousands more than his insurance could cover. If he had insurance. Richard felt a smug smirk grow as he saw realization sink into the other man’s heart. There was no way that anyone who drove the old wreck of a pickup could even begin to comprehend how much the Corvette was worth - yet alone calculate the cost of repairs the fender bender to the delicate body of the sportscar. He rolled his shoulders and let the smirk fade away before the cowboy looked up again. 

“Buddy, geeze.” The cowboy fumbled for his pieces of plastic - license, registration, insurance and the like, and held them out. Richard eyed the cards then flicked his gaze at those guileless brown eyes. They were about the same age, Richard realised. “Look, I'll pay for the damages, I swear. I was my fault, I’m man enough to admit it. I was too busy rubbernecking to watch out for that red light.”

“It's just adorable that you think you could even think you pay for the damages.” Richard smiled slightly when the cowboy's brow furrowed slightly.

“Look, buddy. I did a wrong and I aim to make it right.”

“I refuse to let you even try. Good day.” Richard pushed himself off his car and slid back into the driver's seat.

“Hey!” 

He ignored the indignant shout, grinning widely as he pulled away from the curb. He hadn't felt this good in months.

Richard thought things would change after the unmitigated success of his debut in New York. He thought he would be permitted to stay in his father's seat after he had proven his worth. No. It was much the opposite. His father seemed more certain than ever that he would be best suited in a different city. 

Boston was the sting of exile. He felt like a child sent to his room to play away from the adults.

To make things worse, Hanzo and Matt were more smitten with each other than ever.

Richard stilled, his world narrowing to that single thought.

“Fuck,” he said succinctly, summing the total that was the disaster of his life. 

Rage suffused him, filling like a tidal wave. 

It was so unfair. By all rights, Matthew was his, should have been his. He saw him first. Was his friend first. All he had to do was wait until he was of age. Everything would have been as he planned. 

Until Hanzo came into the picture. 

Then all his carefully laid plans to even  _ try _ for Matthew flew out the window. He’d seen how disgustingly in love Hanzo and Matthew were. Now he didn’t even have the barest whisper of a chance. 

Rage fled and bitter disappointment took its place. 

It was so  _ unfair. _

Richard felt drowned by his mood. It was an utter surprise to him that he pulled into the campus parking structure without a major incident. 

Christ but he wanted to  _ destroy _ his car.

He found his allotted (and paid for) parking spot and got out. He glared at the dent in the trunk and growled. The cowboy was clearly an incompetent lout. He didn’t even have the courtesy to do a thorough job of totalling the sportscar. The dent barely warped the locking and Richard could just kick it open to pull out his bags. He shouldered his bags and walked away, letting the automated parking mechanisms pull the car away to stow in the efficiently automated parking garage. 

Once outside, he stopped and stared at the familiar beat-up truck parked neatly at the curb. 

Was that idiot following him?

It didn’t matter. He’d deal with him if it came to that.

Still frowning, Richard turned on his heel toward his dorm building. He made his way through the halls and found his room with minimal trouble. There was already an open laptop on one of the beds (and a cat beside it), but there was no one else in the room. Richard frowned and shrugged, placing his bags on that bed since he recognised the covers and sheets as the ones his mother chose for him. He absently (displaced the cat) and moved the laptop aside so he could unpack. First to go under the bed was the lockbox (the cat looked on with curiosity), and the next item out was his own laptop. This was set beside the other computer that was already on his bed.

Richard looked at this picture, at the two computers on his bed. Something niggled at the back of his mind (as the cat idly touched a holographic image to enlarge the bar chart) but he ignored it. It was not anything that needed his immediate attention - unlike the voices that he could hear coming down the hallway. 

The building was full of activity. Friends and parents were helping their young family members move into the dorms before the start of classes. The hallways were full of people, but even then Richard could pick out two voices: that of the Dean, and that Texas twang of that guy he’d met on the road.

The possibilities ran through his head. He pulled out his suit bag and hung it up to give himself time to think.

One, the cowboy could have tracked him down, followed him to the college. Richard dismissed this scenario. The driver of the pickup didn’t seem the proactive type.

Two, he was studying at Harvard, a more likely scenario, but one that made Richard frown. If that was the case, he’d horribly misjudged the Texan’s intelligence. The pickup and the worn clothing both screamed scholarship kid. It was a mistake that could cost him later.

The third and final possibility, considering that the cowboy and the Dean were walking in the direction of his room, where his own roommate was yet to appear, was that he and the cowboy were to to share the room for a year. 

It fit the downward spiral that was his life. 

Richard allowed himself a small, furious snarl (causing the cat to look up in alarm). He didn’t have time to be upset and to show his true feelings on the matter. The voices approached the door and swung it open. Richard timed it just right to step out from behind the closet door with a smile. “Hello!”

He felt the petty tinge of satisfaction at the looks of surprise on their faces. 

“Richard! We were expecting you tomorrow.” 

“Yes, my schedule cleared and I could arrive today.” He beamed at the Dean of the College, not bothering to remember the man’s name. He was the very picture of the new age academic, plaid shirt folded to the elbows, a well trimmed beard and wide brown eyes behind fine, wire framed glasses, and he also wore suspenders that he didn’t need.

He looked breakable. 

Richard continued to smile. 

The Dean’s own smile slipped a little.

Someone cleared their throat and Richard brought his attention to the cowboy, his new roommate. 

Richard’s smile widened. The cowboy didn’t smile. That was fine. He didn’t need to smile for Richard to have already pinpointed his type.

“Renegade!” The Dean latched onto the cowboy like a lifeline. “This is Richard, his family comes from around here. He’ll be glad to show you around the city, won’t you, Richard?” He gave Richard a furtive look before turning back quickly to Renegade.

“Yes, you’re not from around here, are you,  _ Renegade _ .”

“Ah yup, that much obvious, huh?” This was drawled out low and slow, like he was stretching out time until the draw at high noon.

“Oh yes, I can practically smell the slow cooked ribs on you.”

Renegade didn’t say anything. His eyes didn’t even narrow. Richard was finding himself impressed.

(The cat looked back and forth between them and jumped to the floor, winding his slick grey body between their legs.)

Richard and Renegade looked down, frowning and wondering what made them look down, but the Dean shook his head at Richard. “Look, you need to be nicer, Rich-”

He clammed up when Richard looked back up at him. Richard smiled. 

“Ah, Renegade, I’m sure you’re in good hands. If you’ll excuse me.”

(The cat meowed disapprovingly as the Dean retreated. His tail swished in annoyance as he looked up at the two young men.)

(Richard absently bent to lift the cat back onto the bed.)

Renegade stayed rooted where he was, moving only to cross his arms. 

Richard broke out into a grin (holding the cat like a baby now, he wanted cuddles. The cat purred). “Come now, Renegade, settle in, relax and unpack. We have the whole year to get to know each other.”

“Now you listen here, buddy. I’m not someone you start fights with.”

“It’s cute that you think that a fight hasn’t already initiated.” Richard (idly scratched the cat behind the ears) sat back on his bed, casually and unconcerned. He was still smiling. Renegade cast him an untrusting look but dumped his bag by his bed and stomped out of the room.

Richard laughed a little (but stopped when the cat put a paw over his mouth).

*

Much despite himself, Richard was highly curious about his new roommate. There weren't many people who could take his measure  _ and _ stand their ground against him. Especially not someone close to his age. Especially when Richard wasn’t devoting any effort in creating that air of subtlety. 

It wasn’t that Richard didn’t want to spend the effort. He could have easily overcome the awkwardness and suspicion that came from the staredown on the road earlier, but facing up against Renegade promised to much more fun. 

So, just who was Renegade Tsu?

Richard, sitting in a quiet part of the Baker Library, began to peel away the layers.

The first layer. Son of a retired Texan bounty hunter, one Falcon Lee Tsu. Listed siblings, one, a sister, Falcon Yin Tsu. There was a sibling act when they were younger, trick-shooting for a travelling show, but he must have kept up with his schooling and grades despite the constant travel because his Harvard education was a fully funded scholarship.

Richard frowned. “What else?” he asked himself.

There were grandparents who were immigrants from Hong Kong and they still owned a chain of restaurants in Austin. There was very little on paper on the maternal grandparents other than a note that they and their daughter, Renegade’s mother, had passed.

Richard, knowing there was more to that story, made a note to dig deeper there as well. 

He turned to the father. His initial impression that Falcon Lee Tsu was retired was only mostly correct. Court and county records indicated that while the man was a law abiding rancher with a sizable property in Texas’ north, he did on occasion still hunt bounties.

Even better, the sister, Falcon Yin, also supported herself that way while she was studying for her undergrad.

Both these points alluded very nicely to the theory that Renegade assisted his father and sister in their hunts.

A pleasing thought.

Richard was under no illusions that Renegade wasn’t doing his own info-gathering and dossier compilation. If he wasn’t, then Richard was sorely disappointed in him.

In fact, he counted on it.

(He absently scratched the cat behind the ears, the grey feline purred in appreciation as he tapped at his own computer.)

“Hey, Richie! Hey Quentin!”

Richard looked up to the smiling visage of one of his many Everard cousins. “Desdemona.” Was she also a freshman? How did this information slip his attention?

“Pfft. So formal. You and Quentin doing anything tonight?” Desdemona looked back and forth between Richard and the air above (the grey cat). She frowned a little, her smile slipping but it came back when she looked back at Richard.

“I think I’ll be occupied tonight. I didn’t know you were a freshman.”

“Sophomore. I’m a year older than you, remember?” She winked. “By the way, you’re not the only St. James on campus but we Everards stick together.”

Richard opened his mouth and closed it. He couldn’t even recall if any of his father’s nephews and nieces were at Harvard. This was sorely careless of him. “Do you feel that there will be trouble from that side of my family?” 

She shrugged. “That’s not my gift, but I like being careful. Catch you around, cousin.” Smiling, she turned on her heel and headed towards the exit. She was met at the door by a blond man that bore resemblances to the both of them. 

Richard tapped his finger on the desk and stood, tucking his computer (and the cat’s) under his arm.

(The cat yawned, flicked his tail, and jumped off the desk to follow Richard out.)

*

Following the chance encounter with his cousin in the freshman library, Richard headed back to his dorm room to drop off the computer(s). Renegade wasn’t in, but the unmade bed was still warm. Richard shrugged and tossed his computer on his own bed. 

(The cat hopped on the bed and turned on his tablet with his paw.)

Richard stood in the middle of the room. He frowned at (the cat).

“Wait. Who is Quentin?”

*

Renegade didn’t return until after dinner. Richard didn’t know where he’d gone because he wasn’t in the dining hall. He appeared close around midnight, bruised, scuffed and sporting a shiner. He slammed the door in and in two steps hauled Richard to his feet. The two young men were of a height. Renegade was broader with the promise to get even thicker as he aged while Richard’s frame only promised to be lean and tall. Even now, Renegade outweighed him in muscle, but Richard only laughed.

“Yeah, laugh it up, dick face.”

Richard laughed again, the encounter with Desdemona earlier suddenly making sense. “Who did you piss off? The Everards? No, they wouldn’t resort to violence so easily. The St. Jameses on the other hand.” He grinned widely. “My god, I can’t believe you actually went straight to the source.”

“Shut up.” Renegade shook him. “You little sick fuck. You know what sort of reaction I got when I asked people about you?”

Richard tilted his head in a quizzical manner. “There were reactions about me? That’s strange. I have little to no notoriety. Perhaps they thought you were asking about my father. We have the same name, you know.”

Renegade stilled.

Richard sighed. “I had such high hopes for you. I thought we were alike, you and I. Then you go and make a rookie mistake like that.”

He was shaken again. “I am  _ nothing _ like  _ you _ .”

“Aren’t you,  _ Renegade? _ Tell me, how many people have you killed?”

Renegade had brown eyes, but they were a warm chestnut compared to the dark brown of his hair. One was behind swollen flesh, but they still widened. “I don’t  _ revel _ in my kills.”

(The cat meowed, disinterestedly, almost disapprovingly.)

Richard’s grin stretched. “Neither do I, that’s why I am a  _ professional _ .”

Renegade’s face took on a disgusted look and he threw Richard back on his bed (causing the cat to scramble out of the way with a yowl).

“I should get rid of you.”

_ Ahem. _

“You won’t do that. That would be vigilantism.” Richard smiled.

_ If you could stop, all of this posturing is severely affecting my study. _

Richard and Renegade stopped at  _ looked  _ at the cat.

He sat on Renegade’s desk and yawned.

_ Quentin Terrence Whiskers, at your service. _

Richard blinked. Renegade shook his head.

“I can’t believe it. We were so focused on each other that we ignored the  _ telepathic cat _ .” Richard rubbed his eyes.

Whiskers meowed innocently.

“No,” said Richard.

“Yeah, quit it,” said Renegade. 

The cat yawned.  _ And I cannot believe that you both pierced my glamour. One, yes, but the both of you at the same time? Unthinkable. _ He idly licked his paw and cleaned his ear.  _ What are the possibilities that two initiated young men are assigned to the same dorm room together. I wonder who has that sort of influence.  _ Whiskers scratched his ear before examining his foot before he pinned the both of them with his yellow stare.

Renegade looked at Richard and he felt a deep chasm yawning in his stomach. “My father.” But why, to what end?

Renegade laughed, a mocking sound. “Yeah. That explains you and me, but what about the cat?”

Whiskers blinked, a catlike-shrug.  _ I was just looking for a place where I could study. Your room was the only empty one at the time. _

Richard shook his head. “No, you, in our room, in  _ our room _ . That cannot be more than a coincidence.”

Whiskers blinked again, slowly and lazily.  _ Sometimes it’s as simple as that.  _ His tail swayed.  _ You are both right. You are alike and different at the same time. You certainly are potent. Certainly more powerful than the Everard girl in the library.  _

“What?”

The cat blinked again.  _ What? _

Richard dismissed what the cat had said about Desdemona for future examination. His immediate attention was on the mystery of the  _ talking cat _ .

Renegade ran a hand through his hair. “Look, this is all so much bullcrap. I’m going to find some coffee and some ice for my eye and when I come back, this is going to be a hundred percent normal.” He limped out of the room, leaving Richard to stare at the cat. The cat stared back.

Now that Richard could look, truly  _ look _ , at the cat, he realised that Whiskers was a lovely smooth blue-grey. He would even say he was a Russian Blue. Richard shook his head again, the residue of Whisker’s whammy clouding his thoughts still. 

He lay back on his bed, hands behind his head, grinning widely.

Perhaps there was opportunity here in Boston after all. 

 

**2069 - San Francisco, September**

Hou looked at his phone and resisted the urge to throw it at a wall. Instead he set it to silent and dropped it on the bed beside him before running both hands roughly through his hair. He stared at the opposite wall for one long moment then threw the phone anyway. The crunch was loud but satisfying.

That brought Hanzo to poke his head through the door, one brow raised in concern. Hou looked at him, at beautiful, accepting Hanzo and deflated, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching over. “My family sucks.”

Hanzo considered this. “Do they indeed?” he asked in a mild tone. He ventured into the room and sat on the bed by Hou. 

Hou rubbed his face. “Do you know the story of Fa Mulan?”

Hanzo only raised a brow at him.

Hou blew out a breath. “Yeah, stupid question.” He sat hunched for a long moment. “That was Cindy on the phone. One of my cousins.”

“I remember.” Hanzo remembered Cindy as a tall girl with a pink streak through her pageboy bob. She giggled a great deal, he recalled. 

Hou played with his hands before Hanzo stilled them by taking them into his own. “Cindy’s brother just came out to the family. Cindy is unhappy that Jae is catching so much flack. She wants me to do more to convince everybody to accept Jae as he is. I was going to do that anyway but before I could even say that, she said ‘well, I suppose you can’t do much yourself. I mean, everyone thinks you’re just going to back to being a girl after.’”

“Ah.” 

Hanzo found himself at a loss for words. He let go of Hou’s hands and wrapped an arm around his shoulder instead. Hou collapsed against his chest and was still and quiet. Presently Hanzo felt the front of his shirt dampen and he pulled Hou away to wipe away the silent tears. Hou rubbed at his eyes, too, but the tears still came. 

“I’m sorry. God, I’m a mess.”

“You are not.” Hanzo recalled the many times his own family had driven him to tears of frustration, but there was never this much malice in their intent. At a loss of how else to comfort Hou, he kissed him on the head and pulled him again to his chest. There was silence once more as Hou’s small, hard body pressed against him. 

“I don’t want to be a girl again.”

“You are not one,” said Hanzo with conviction. 

“I just... I just want children and to still be me. That’s all.”

Hanzo stilled momentarily but it was enough for Hou to take notice and pull away.

“I was just surprised. I had not thought you would be interested in a family.”

Hou wiped his eyes. “It never occurred to me to not have one. I mean. That’s the reason I’ve not had bottom surgery yet. I want children.”

Hanzo smiled and gathered Hou into his lap. 

The smaller man let out a startled “Hey!” But he settled quickly, drawing his legs up and curled under Hanzo’s chin with a soft sigh. Hanzo kissed his hair again.

“You would make an excellent father.”

“Heh. You think so?” 

“Yes.” Hanzo rested his chin on Hou’s head.

Hou rubbed at his eye and settled. “How about you? Did you ever want to be a father?”

Hanzo gave the question some thought. 

“I had long thought that yes, I wanted children, but only because it was expected of me. As the eldest son, it fell upon me to continue the family line, to bring honour to the name of Shimada by marrying well and raising strong sons. I had thought that when I left the family this option was lost to me, that I could no longer hope for such a thing. I had thought that the yearning for a family of my own was but one of the expectations laid upon me by the clan, an expectation that was not wholly my own.”

“And now?”

“Now I find that I would dearly welcome a family.”

“I think you would make an excellent father.”

Hanzo laughed softly, sighing into Hou’s hair. “It is kind of you to say that.”

“I mean it.”

“I know that you do.”

Hou snorted and elbowed Hanzo in the side. “Scoot to the headboard.” He wiggled out of Hanzo’s arms and crawled to make himself comfortable at the head of the bed where Hanzo joined him. 

They sat that way for a while.

“So you want sons? I’d like to raise strong daughters myself. It’s a hard world for sons.”

“Yes, sons to take the name after me.” He laughed at Hou’s expression. “Yes, my family has ancient ideals. Do you have names for your daughters?”

“Oh no, I’m not that far gone. I’m not going to make names for future children.” Hou snorted. “But they’ll have terrible flower names. My birthname was... are you braced?”

Hanzo nodded, prepared for the worst.

“Chrysanthemum. Chrysanthemum Wong.” 

Hanzo didn’t laugh. He didn’t even snort. “That is an excellent name, but perhaps it does not suit you.”

“Hah! You think? No. I went by Chrys.”

This time Hanzo did laugh. “Yes, much better.” He touched Hou’s face with a finger. “Chrysanthemum. In Japanese, that is  _ kiku _ .” He grinned at the smaller man. “Wong Kiku is a nice name for your daughter.”

Hou groaned. “Urgh. Wong Kiku  is so cutesy.” Then he grinned up at Hanzo. “How about Sakura for your daughter?”

This time Hanzo groaned. “No. No. Every second girl in Japan is named Sakura. Sakura is too common a name for a daughter of the Shimada.”

“Hah! No, you jerk snob. I meant Sakura because of your family home. It honours Hanamura and the place where you grew up.”

Hanzo opened his mouth then closed it. He mulled over the thought for a while. “Your suggestion has merit.”

“Shimada Sakura.” Hou waggled his brows.

There was a derisive snort. “We shall see.”

Hou snickered and settled against Hanzo’s side. He played with Hanzo’s hand for a moment before speaking again. “It won’t be Wong, you know.”

“Hmm?” 

“My children probably won’t have my family name. I always thought I’d take my spouse’s name. The mask really doesn't care and it’s not like I’m the last of my family. The line is not dependent on me.” He shrugged. 

Hanzo swallowed, digesting this new information. 

“You mean that if I were to propose, you would take my name?”

Hou looked sideways and up at him. “Well, that would be dependant upon a proposal, wouldn’t it?”

Hanzo suddenly blinked rapidly, his eyes stinging. 

“If I were to propose, you would marry  _ me _ ?”

“Again, that would depend on a proposal.” Hou turned, grinning widely. That grin faded when he saw Hanzo’s expression. He touched Hanzo’s face. “Hey.”

“You would  _ marry _ me? You would take my  _ name _ ? You would have  _ children _ with me?”

Hou didn’t answer but raise himself on his knees to kiss Hanzo on the brow. He settled back to rest his weight over his feet. “Yeah, I would. But on one condition.”

“Y-yes?” A fist clutched Hanzo’s heart, causing him to stammer.

“I need a  _ huge _ diamond. Like as big as the moon.”

Hanzo choked on an unexpected laugh.

Hou made a large circular motion with his arms. “It has to be so huge that I’d tear a muscle just carrying it.”

Hanzo wheezed, finding breathing suddenly difficult. “No, no, you do not want that. Diamonds are not worth very much.”

Hou nodded vigorously. “I don’t care. It has to be big enough that I could use it as a weapon. Do you have any idea how practical a huge stone is?”

“I know how  _ un _ practical it is.” Hanzo smiled widely at Hou. The warmth in his heart threatened a prickling at his eyes. 

The kiss that followed surprised them both. It was sweet and caressing, and it led to Hou straddling his lap. Hanzo rested his hands on the smaller man’s waist, holding him close. They nestled against each other, head against head, arms around each other. 

“A _ huge _ diamond,” said Hou into his ear.

Hanzo started wheezing into Hou’s neck. 

“So huge, I expect you to have stolen it from some deathtrap vault with such complicated failsafes and traps that it would take you an expert team of ten professionals to extract it.”

This time Hanzo snorted. “Now you are just summarising the plot of a ridiculous heist movie.”

“Shhhhh. You’re shaming my combination heist-proposal fantasy.”

That deserved nothing less than a faceful of pillow. Hou’s laughter was muffled and when the pillow was removed, he grabbed Hanzo by the face and they kissed again. 

Later, as they lay in bed under the gathering twilight, their hair a mess from play and lovemaking, they caressed each other lightly and whispered soft declarations of love. 

  
  


**2076 -  Gibraltar**

 

_ Now _

It was a couple of days after the Halloween party. Hanzo woke in a fairly good mood. He yawned and stretched in bed before sitting up. The room he shared with McCree was dark, but that was normal. It was still dark outside and bound to be cool, just the way Hanzo enjoyed his predawn run. He slipped out of the bed, McCree still snoring softly. The cowboy normally joined him for a jog but Hanzo knew he was working late into the night and let him rest. He padded barefoot to the ensuite. The lights turned on automatically and Hanzo stared blinking at his reflection.

His shriek made McCree fall out of bed. The cowboy scrambled to his feet and pounded into the room.

*

_ Earlier _

Adrian ran his thumb the edge again. There was a dent in the blade that made his heart ache. His mother’s sword really deserved better care. He was on the floor of his room, sitting with his injured leg stretched out and his other leg tucked close. On the floor in front of him were some waste printouts and a whetstone. He’d occasionally wet the stone with some water from the bottle by his side as he sharpened the sword. 

Genji, in turn, had Adrian’s reinforced jacket in his hands. He was perched comfortably on Adrian’s bed, his well defined fingers curiously examining the lining between the fabric and the  _ visible _ silk lining that could be seen when the jacket was open. This was the garment that Adrian wore when they rescued Hanzo not a month ago, and Genji remembered how well Adrian had hidden, camouflaged amongst grey stone.

The suit’s outer fabric had a light net of micro-fine wires and weave that was not immediately evident until one examined it thoroughly. Genji suspected that it was designed to give the suit and the wearer a chameleon-like effect. 

He was impressed despite himself. 

The inner layer explained why the jacket was heavier than it should be. There was a thin mesh of tiny octagonal graphene tiles. Armour, in fact. 

Adrian was a man who only  _ seemed _ to take unnecessary risks, when in fact he was a man who wore several layers of light body armour. 

Genji smiled behind his mask and wondered at how similar yet different they were when he was Adrian’s age.

“It has to be tonight,” said Adrian was saying. “McCree will be working late with Winston. I overheard them earlier. It’s the only time you’ll be able to pull it off.”

“This prank of yours, it is a great deal of you planning and a great deal of myself working.”

Adrian shrugged. “Think of it as an exercise in deft subtlety. You lose when Hanzo wakes up.” The sharpening of the sword made a pleasing, scratching sound. 

Genji turned his green visor down at Adrian.  

“Well! Since you put it that way.”

*

_ Now _

McCree blinked at a furious Hanzo, the adrenaline slowly fading now that he saw that Hanzo wasn’t in danger. “Ah… nice haircut?”

It was the wrong thing to say. 

The big cowboy backed away when five foot eight of angry Japanese man rounded on him.

“I. Did. Not. Get. My. Hair. Cut.”

“But-”

_ “It was imposed upon me!” _

Light dawned in McCree’s head. Or was that the sun peaking through the blinds. “Oh,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “A prank, eh? Who d’ya think did it?”

“Adrian, no doubt, helped by Genji.” Hanzo spat the words like they had a bad taste. “And in my sleep!”

McCree whistled, impressed. His reflexes proved faster than his wits as he dodged the bar of shaving soap thrown at his head.

*

_ Earlier _

Genji pondered how best to execute the mission. 

The use of sedatives was both cheating and edging on unnecessary overkill. 

It would also, Genji mused, be rather creepy.

In the end, he decided that Adrian was right. This was an exercise in deft subtlety, and he was more than capable of the task. The task in question did not call for speed, but for accuracy. 

Genji knew he had an hour to devote to the task. Perhaps less. That was more than enough.

It was the simplest of things to slip into the room Hanzo shared with McCree. It was warm enough that his brother left the window open and with Genji taking more care than usual to remain undetected, he could enter the room without notice. He dimmed his lights to darkness as he switched into stealth mode. The cybernetic ninja was a living shadow as he slipped into the room. He crouched low, still as a statue. 

Hanzo only continued to breath steadily.

Genji took a moment to calibrate to the soft sounds of the room before moving again. He moved when Hanzo breathed out. He’d done this many times when they were children. It was how he snuck out of their room to play in the gardens when he was a boy, later as a young adult how he crawled out to dance and meet with assignations. 

And now, sneaking  _ in _ to give his older brother a haircut. 

Genji did not think that anything then had made his pulse beat as hard as it did now or made his scarred lips grin as wide. 

He neared Hanzo’s bed and rose up. The elder Shimada was lying on his front, his head turned to one side, facing the door. 

Fortuitous. 

A laser grid of his brother’s head formed in the computer behind his eyes, mapping out the cut he and Adrian had decided for Hanzo. 

He waited for Hanzo to breathe out, and gently brushed his hair upwards, then paused.

Hanzo didn’t twitch, but he smiled a little in his sleep.

Genji smiled a great deal. 

He pulled out the small shears and snipped.

*

_ Now _

Hanzo barrelled down the corridors of the Watchpoint, bow in hand and arrows across his back. He’d grabbed the first items of clothing that came to hand and raced down the hallway of dorms to Genji’s room, leaving a bemused McCree in their shared room. It proved to be empty. As did his old room, Adrian’s current domicile. Zenyatta was in his own room, however, but he had not seen either of their students that morning.

Hanzo’s mood improved little as he moved through the base. Each of the common rooms seemed to lack either culprit but there was tell here and there of their passing. He bared his teeth.

“But where are they  _ now. _ ” 

Mei didn’t know. She covered her mouth, but nothing could disguise the delight in her eyes as she looked at him. “Genji was here picking up some fruit and water and Adrian was making some sandwiches. I think they went separate ways.”

Unlikely. He thanked her regardless.

Reinhardt and Torbjorn were in the garage but the two veterans shook their heads at the barely civil question. 

Morrison was more help- the best help. “I saw Everard and Genji over by the cliffs.”

Hanzo’s nostrils flared.  _ Now _ the hunt was on.

The old soldier had more to add. “Nice hair.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes at him but Morrison had already turned away, very likely to hide his amused smile.

To the cliffs then. 

He scaled the sheer rock face and took care to be quiet. He managed it despite the heavy military boots he’d shoved his feet into. His vigilance paid dividends when he heard voices over the rise. 

Hanzo’s grin was wolf-like as he raced up the last few feet of rock wall and vaulted over the top.

Genji and Adrian turned their faces towards him. Adrian didn’t look the least bit surprised. In fact, he grinned back.

“Fly, Genji! Leave me, I cannot outrun him!”

The brat.

“Farewell, sacrifice!”

The  _ brats _ .

Hanzo ignored the obvious bait and pounced after Genji. He could not understand their strategy, could not discern their thoughts, because of course he had to restrain Genji first. He was the mobile of the two, the more obvious threat, the one that he prepared for. 

Genji was fast, agile and quick, and even from behind, his cybernetic reflexes caused him to deflect the first and second arrows that Hanzo loosed at him. Sadly for Genji, Hanzo loosed three arrows. This one clipped Genji on the chin causing him to stumble ever so slightly. It was enough of a misstep for Hanzo to rush forward and grab Genji’s long scarf. He jerked it. Genji yelped and crashed to the ground.

A low whistle drew his attention. Now he could fully take in the scene before him. The brats were taking a picnic. Hanzo didn’t have words in English to express his fury.

“Nicely done, Genji. He looks better than I expected.”

“Irritating cur!  _ Move!”  _

He tugged at Genji and aimed a kick at Adrian. 

“I’m going, I’m going.” Adrian moved slowly to swing over the lip of the cliff. Genji laughed softly, his flanging voice sounding almost pleasant.

“But, anija, you are going to be so grateful when McCree admires your new looks.”

Hanzo snarled and tugged roughly on the scarf.

He hated knowing that they still won.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How often can I say how grateful I am at all my readers and my ever suffering beta? I really can't. I really haven't be able to write much and I know this chapter was late, but I'm still trying to get this story done by the end of the year. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	14. At World's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: a bunch of little shits, character death, canon-typical violence, violence that goes beyond canon-typical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Evanelric for always reaching out with her little paws to beat each new chapter and to everyone who is still reading this little labour of love.

**2076 - Watchpoint Gibraltar, November**

Hanzo dragged the two miscreants behind him. He ignored their barely muffled chortles.

_ The brats! _

Genji, he pulled by the scarf. Adrian, he had a firm grip on the ear. Both stumbled after him as he dragged them roughly through the base,  _ and they were still snickering _ . 

Well. He’ll see how hilarious they would find their situation after he was done with them.

Finally, they reached his destination. He kicked in the door. “Zenyatta!” he roared. 

The Omnic monk serenely looked up from his little veranda garden, seemingly unsurprised by the unceremonious greeting.

“This one belongs to you!” 

_ That _ shut Genji up. “Oh no,” the cybernetic ninja said. 

Zenyatta took in Hanzo’s hair and overall mood. He nodded. “I understand,” he intoned, solemnly.

He caught Genji by the wrist when Hanzo flung him his way.

“Come, my student. We shall meditate on the 1500 sutras of the Iris.”

If a green visor could beg for mercy, Genji's would have when he looked back at them as the doors closed.

Hanzo pulled on Adrian's ear. The blond man grinned wider. 

“And you.”

“And me!”

Hanzo brought his face to Adrian's. “We will work on your recovery.”

Adrian's grin widened. “Oh good,” he said. “I needed the exercise.”

Hanzo’s scowl deepened.

*

Adrian’s grin hadn’t faded after two hours of grueling stretches and exercises. He panted and sweated but he still grinned widely. 

Hanzo stood up in disgust.

“Just what is so amusing?”

“Nothing! You look great!” Adrian sat up, pulling his legs up to his chest. 

“I do not.” Hanzo said, scowling. He folded his arms. “It is ridiculous.”

“Nonsense. Have you seen yourself? I bet you could pull at any club.”

Hanzo snorted. “I could have pulled before. What's worse is that I will need to neaten the edges myself." 

Adrian rocked back and forth, still grinning. “Don't grump so much. Genji-chan did his best.”

Hanzo suddenly grinned, sharp and wolf-like. “So. It is not just Genji-san, is it? It is Genji-chan now, hmm?”

Adrian's blooming red face made the whole morning’s effort worth it for Hanzo.

*

Feeling a great deal more charitable, he released Adrian from his penance and watched him scamper furtively away. He himself headed back to his room. Jesse wasn’t there; his hat, serape and boots were gone, indicating he was up and about for his day. Not surprising considering that it was almost lunch time. 

Then he caught his reflection in the floor length mirror and paused. He hadn’t had a chance at the gym earlier, he was so focused on Adrian. Hanzo scowled. His student was right, he did look good. He was wearing one of Adrian’s indie band tee shirts that he’d stolen, the sleeves cut off to turn it into a tank. It showed off the bulk and muscle of his arms. He was also wearing knee-length track pants that displayed his defined calves to perfection. The heavy military boots could have been a better choice, and yes, the line of his new undercut needed to be neatened, but Adrian was definitely right.

He looked good.

His scowl deepened.

The insufferable  _ brat _ .

*

Lunch was an arduous affair. 

Though Mei had already seen the new look, she was still clearly sneaking peeks from the corner of her eyes. Hana and Lucio, freshly awake for what was, for them, their breakfast, were also staring, simultaneously blinking both sleep and surprise from their eyes.

Hanzo scowled into his lunch. 

Neither Zenyatta nor Genji showed up for lunch, but Adrian did, and only then after a quick peek into the dining room. He ducked in, nodding at Hanzo and limped back out after gathering a few sandwiches and a couple of drinks. He’d barely even greeted the others when he left. Hana frowned and got up to hobble after him.

Strangely enough, that reminded Hanzo that he hadn’t seen Jesse since he rushed out of their room that morning. He texted him and waited. A minute later and there wasn’t a reply. Hanzo frowned and concentrated on his lunch, tearing into his sandwich.

Lucio slipped into the seat beside him. “My man, your hair!”

Hanzo growled. “I am well aware of my hair.”

“No, I mean, it looks great!”

“So I keep being told.”

“Need help with cleaning the edges up? I’m good with hair, you can trust me.”

Hanzo sighed and eased back on his annoyance. The musician only meant well. “I can manage on my own.” 

“Okay! If you’re sure, but if you need a hand, just yell for me.” Lucio flashed a bright grin. “So… Ah… What’s up with Adrian?”

Hanzo smirked at that. “Ask and maybe he’ll tell you.”

“Haha, okay, I get it.” Lucio grinned. “You keep his secrets. It’s cool. Enjoy your lunch, Hanzo my man.”

Hanzo watched him go, snorting. “Ridiculous.” There was no heat in his tone. He checked his phone. Jesse still hadn’t replied. 

Frowning, Hanzo returned to their room after cleaning up after himself. Still a lack of McCree. It wasn’t like the cowboy to be silent for so long.

He fetched his bow and arrows and headed for the target range. The large room was absent of big cowboy. It was turning out to be that sort of day.

Hanzo sighed and set about to get a few hours of practice in.

McCree still hadn’t replied to his text.

It was almost evening now. A quick check with Athena assured him the gunslinger was still on base. 

So why wasn’t he answering Hanzo’s hails?

A deep unease settled in his stomach. 

He pushed past the sensation and gathered his gear to return them back to his room. 

Genji raced past him as he crossed the courtyard then raced back to appear before him. “Anija! Your troublemaking student is hiding. He is planning more mischief, no doubt! Where is he? I want to join in!”

That triggered a roll of Hanzo’s eyes. “Then all the better that you do not find him.”

“Bah! You are no fun, anija.”

Hanzo snorted. “Jesse has been silent as well.”

“That is strange. McCree is not one for mischief and practical jokes.” Genji tilted his visored head to the side. “Hrn. It is crooked. Let me straighten it.”

What was it with people wanting to cut his hair for him?

“I think that you have done enough.”

“Clearly, anija, I have not, as the line is still crooked.”

Hanzo scowled. “I cannot believe that you are thirty-five.”

“Tch. It is only a number. I cannot believe that you are not yet forty and already greying.”

“Bah! I cannot believe that Zenyatta has already released you.”

“Ah yes! I am well meditated and at one with the Iris, the universe and myself.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes at his brother. Genji’s featureless visor and mask only looked back guilelessly. 

“I cannot believe that you are still a brat.”

Genji laughed, loud and hearty. The sound of it caught at Hanzo’s heart, triggering an emotion he didn’t want to put a name to. He squashed down the feeling and scowled in turn. “Bah. Better you and Adrian remain separated.”

“So he _ is _ hiding. I shall find him.” He was off in a streak of green.

Hanzo sighed.

“Idiots and children.”

Back at his room, he stared into his bathroom mirror. He had Adrian’s silver cutthroat stolen from his kit, his own clippers, Jesse’s rarely used razor and a pen.

Glaring at his reflection, he tied up his hair, revealing the ragged edge of his new undercut. He weighed the pen against the razor and in the end, vanity ruled out. 

It didn’t take long once he drew out a straighter edge, and shaving soap and a razor finished off the rest. He had tied up his hair and was admiring the smoothness of his scalp when the scuffing of a boot heel on metal announced McCree’s return. 

“Hey. That looks mighty good. Even more than this morning.” Jesse let out a low whistle. 

Hanzo turned, wiping soap suds from his neck and the back of his head. “Jesse. You have been greatly occupied today.”

The big gunslinger looked abashed. “Ah, yeah. I was doing some research. You got out in a rush this morning and knocked things over. I tidied up and picked up that book of haiku you let me read that time.”

Hanzo nodded, wiping his hands and tossed the towel aside. “Yes, I remember.” He reached for his shirt. 

“I didn’t read the inscription in the front then, but I did this morning.”

“Yes, and what did you find?” He wondered where Jess was going with this. 

“It got me thinking, you got things with these fellows, Hou and Matthew, on lots of your things. Think I got a right to know who these two are.”

Hanzo felt his mouth go dry. “Matthew is not any concern of yours.”

Jesse fixed his jaw in a stubborn manner. “That’s hard to believe when you still have a bucketload of his gifts.”

Hanzo opened his mouth to furnish McCree with an acidic reply when a clatter of voices and and boots moved down the hall. 

“Fine. Let us find a more private place to talk.”

He pulled on his shirt and grabbed his belt. This was going to be a talk where he was going to need his flask.

*

They ended up in sitting on some tarp covered crates in one of the many storage areas. It was far enough from the main thoroughfares of the base to ensure they would have privacy. 

Hanzo didn’t want an audience for this.

Jesse still had that stubborn look. It was long past the time when Hanzo felt his bad mood had returned.

“Hou and Matthew are the same person. You have nothing to worry on that account.”

“Look, I geddit that you have your friends. I just want to know I’m not just a side thing.”

Hanzo couldn’t keep the sneer from his  face. “Oh, you have nothing to fear on that front.”

“You’re acting mighty strange, Hanzo. Who is this Hou? Wait, that’s Cantonese for monkey, right?”

“Matthew was many things to me. He was my friend and my lover. He was going to be my husband. We were going to have children. We were going to be a  _ family _ .”

“Hanzo, a man can tell this is really touchy territory.” Then it hit McCree. “Wait, you said “was”.” 

Hanzo sneered and took a swig from his silver gourd. 

“I have found you!” They looked up to see Genji arc overhead to land on the gantry above them. Adrian rose from the shadows where he was sitting. Hanzo could see even in the dim light how ashen he had become. A mood of resigned acceptance fell upon Hanzo. Any place remote enough for privacy was also a good hiding spot for someone avoiding a cybernetically enhanced ninja. He looked up at his student, regretting what the younger man had overheard. Adrian was never meant to know. 

Well. What has been said, has been said. He will deal with the fall out as need be.

Adrian had a blank mask on, his eyes unfocused, but his voice was steady when he said, “My apologies, Sensei. I will remove myself.”

He limped away on the gantry before Hanzo could give him leave to exit. Genji looked at him then down at McCree and his brother. He shook his head and shrugged before following after Adrian.

They waited until both interlopers had gone. 

“Hanzo, look-”

“The reason you have nothing to worry about is because Matthew is  _ dead _ .”

 

**2069 October**

Hanzo didn’t have time to plan the heist. Or rather, he didn’t have the time he wished he had to make an elegant plan that was both elaborate and foolproof. He had to settle for functional with only a touch of elegance. He didn’t have the time to gather ten other skilled individuals. He only had himself.

And frankly, one of him was worth more than ten men.

Sadly, despite Hou’s requirements, a diamond the size of a moon did not exist on Earth. Hanzo had no intention of stealing a diamond, regardless. Even a red diamond was not Hou’s worth. 

No, Hanzo had something else in mind. 

He made up a story about a personal vendetta that Hou saw right through. Hanzo didn’t care, all that mattered was that Hou didn’t suspect his true purpose. He knew that the shorter man thought that he was going to purchase a betrothal present and he let Matthew keep on thinking that.

Hou touched his face at the airport. “Don’t be long,” he winked. “Someone might come by with the required diamond.”

Hanzo huffed. “I will be back before you know it.”

His last view of Hou was of a small figure, confident and cocky, as the crowded mass at the airport security gates swallowed him. 

His journey was deliberately long and misguiding. He kept his plans a secret just in case Hou guessed his destination. Hanzo took a mix of air, land and sea travel. He never took a direct route if he could manage it, and about half way on his journey, his diligence paid off when Hou sent him an angry text. He was on a rocking fishing boat that was moving up the Italian coast when he looked down at the buzzed notification.

_ Fine! Be secretive! I give up tracking you :P _

Hanzo didn’t believe it for a second, but he grinned widely. He tucked the phone away into a waterproof bag strapped to his chest and nodded at the wheelhouse at the fisherman he’d chartered. The old bearded man started to wave, but started when Hanzo dived overboard and started swimming for shore.

It was dark when he stepped onto the shore. There was a group of partygoers a few hundred meters off, drinking and dancing on the sandy beach. They were creating a racket and it was barely any effort to avoid their notice. Still, he didn’t have the luxury to pause for breath. He ducked into the nearby wooded area to strip off his wet clothing to wring dry. What dampness was left would be taken care of with his own body heat. 

He walked a little more into the woods, guided by the directions he’d been sent earlier. The hovercycle he had arranged was there as promised. Hanzo pulled the tarp off and pushed it to the main road, but not before he completed the payment to the contractor as promised.

That involved tucking a discrete bundle under a nondescript bush.

Hanzo was on the road not seconds after, first heading south, then east towards the center of Naples. 

There was a man he met a lifetime ago, an old acquaintance of his father’s and he treated power like an old friend. He was a collector of fine and valuable art pieces. Shimada Sojiro admired his colleague and was saddened by his passing. Hanzo would have had qualms if he were planning to steal from this man. It was a good thing he was stealing from his heirs instead. 

To Hanzo’s mind, there was nothing that Hou deserved more than the finest jewel on the planet. This was not a diamond. This was instead the priceless jadeite pendant known as the Dragon’s Eye. 

Hanzo thought this was appropriate in several ways.

He made his way into the centre of the city and parked his hovercycle a few streets away from his targeted destination. He got off, melded into the night crowd and walked a little closer before ducking to the side near an alley on the pretense of fixing his bootlace. As soon as he was certain no one was paying attention, he quickly scaled up the side of the building.

So far so good. If his luck held out and his sources were to be trusted, the old crook’s heirs hadn’t upgraded security since he died. If they were as cheap as reported, they wouldn’t have much in in the way of personnel. If his luck held out, he would be out of the city in an hour.

Once on the rooftops, the dark of the new moon helped him stay undetected as he kept to the shadows. He pulled on a scarf to tie over the lower half of his face, then approached the building. His path was as smooth as could be. He kept his balance on the roof tiles without making too much noise. Once or twice, a shadow moving across a lit window caused him to crouch low and pause before moving again. Upon  reaching the building, he kept to the side and paused at the second window he came across. He listened for a while, reaching into a pocket for a small, cylindrical device. It was easily manipulated into a long S shape and he pressed one end against the glass. Hanzo waited a moment, and when the device failed to react, tucked it away. Satisfied that the room was empty, it was just a matter of lifting the simple inner latches from the outside and pulling himself through the window.

The room that he climbed into was not the room that held the jewel. Hanzo supposed that it was just as well because it was a disused bedroom. It wasn’t so bad as to have spider webs hanging from the corners, but Hanzo had to restrain a sneeze.

His plan was to locate the Dragon’s Eye in the foyer where it was on display. He would retrieve it and replace it with a copy. He would also then hide the theft by heading back upstairs to the master bedroom and rummage through the private collection. Hanzo intended to trip the alarms and alert the guards. The guards would see him fleeing from the master bedroom and overlook that he had already been down in the foyer.

Everything went according to plan. Which was why he was now dodging bullets.

His phone rang just as he dived out the open window. Hanzo fired a shot, then ran quickly across the rooftop as he answered it.

“Babe, I miss you,” were Hou’s first words. Hanzo jumped across the gap between buildings, keeping his speed as he ran nimbly across the unsecured tiled rooftop.

“Hmm. Yes, I know. If that is you on the other roof, you need to improve your aim.”

There was a rude noise on the other end of the line as Hanzo vaulted over the side of the roof. 

“Are you going to take long? Richard said he needs a hand and I thought I’d fly over to his side of the country.”

Hanzo considered this on the way down. He caught the lintel he was aiming for and hung on for a moment. “I should be home in four days.”

“He assures me that it won’t take long and I’ll back in San Francisco before you’re done.”

“I should meet you in Boston. Perhaps we could ‘sightsee’.” He swung into the open window and ducked through an empty room. 

“Sounds good.”

“And I have a question for you.” He hoped that he had injected enough emphasis into his words. He padded through the door then burst through it, running. A couple were in the living room, more engaged with each other than the holoterminal that was on to notice him racing out and into the hallway. There Hanzo found himself on the floor of an apartment building. He found the staircase and jogged downwards. 

His efforts at emphasis paid off with Hou. There was a measured pause on his end. “Y-you do?”

“But first, I have a question for your family.”

Hou lost his cool at that and made a high pitched sound. It didn’t quite disguise the clatter of footsteps above him, and Hanzo grinned despite a spray of gunfire causing him to press against a wall. 

“I have to go now.” Hanzo dropped the line before Hou could press for details.

He flew down the staircase and ducked through a doorway. There was an open window at the far end of the corridor and he jumped through. From there he found a place to avoid notice for a few moments and to send a quick picture of the pendant to Hou. It mostly obscured with his thumb over the jewel, but it was enough to warrant a return text of  _!!!!! _

Hanzo smirked. 

Buoyed by high spirits he lost his pursuers by zig-zagging and back-tracking around to his hovercycle and he was on his way out of the city and on his way to his intended.

 

**2069, October - Boston**

There was something wrong. Hanzo had felt a deep sense of unease since his flight took off from Vietnam, and now that he had landed, that feeling only intensified. He somehow made it through customs and baggage claim without much trouble and when he exited the gates, Hou was not there. 

Hanzo looked around, progressing through the arrival waiting room as he pulled his bags behind him. Then the crowd parted and there was Richard.

The younger man was sporting a black overcoat and a split lip and he was not looking out. He just stood there, hands in his pockets as he stared blankly at the tiled floor. 

Then he looked up. The smile he managed was weak and crooked. “Matthew couldn’t make it. I’m here to pick you up.”

Hanzo frowned, the hand that gripped the handle of his suitcase clenched reflexively. “What is Matthew doing?”

“I’ll tell you later. C’mon.” Richard turned on his heel and walked out of the airport.

The car he led Hanzo to was a silver sports car that the archer had never seen before. His bags went in the back and Richard took the driver’s seat. “Get comfortable, we have a ways to go.”

“And where is Matthew?”

Richard shook his head. “Occupied, but you’ll be able to see him soon. I need to tell you something first.”

Hanzo glowered, rapidly losing patience. 

Richard kept his eyes on the road. They drove in silence for half an hour. The route took them by the coast. Hanzo caught sight of a glorious coastline, and farther away from the city and into the residential suburbs. The houses grew less dense and more widely spaced with large yards. 

They were also getting more run down and they passed wrecks, old broken down cars, military vehicles and husks of dead Omnics. There was evidence of rebuilding but it didn’t seem to be fashionable to live this far out of the city. It looked like a fishing village had grown around a bay they passed but signs of life were few and far between after that. 

“Is Matthew in a safehouse out here?”

Richard shook his head. “No, he’s back in Boston. I need to tell you something.”

Hanzo’s frown deepened. “Out here?”

“Yes. Please. It’s not much longer.”

They passed a sign that hung crookedly off a single chain. Hanzo caught the words  _ “World’s End”  _ just before they drove over a bridge. They entered a raggedly overgrown park, on a road that had seen better times. The grass was tall and yellow, but the magnificent views indicated that it was once a lovely venue. They drove on a road that followed the curve of the coastline and over another bridge and drove again until they reached the point.

Richard got out and after a moment, Hanzo followed after. The younger man was standing around the back of the car. He had taken off his coat and had his handgun in his hand. Hanzo watched as Richard checked the magazine before he slotted it back with a decisive snap. Then he looked up at Hanzo and met the archer’s eyes for the first time since he was picked up at the airport. They were hollow with deep circles and they looked at Hanzo with trepidation.

“This is as good as place as any,” said Richard. “It’s a good place.”

“A good place for what?”

Richard looked around, then out towards the bay for a long moment. 

“The first Everards in America landed near here. Maeve Everard and her eight children. It’s good being near the sea.”

He looked down at the gun and set it firmly on the trunk between Hanzo and himself.

Then he started talking.

Hanzo’s iron control snapped five minutes in.

He roared, raging taking over as he grabbed the pistol. He swung and Richard went down, blood spraying from the cut in his cheek. Richard pulled himself to his knees as Hanzo flipped the gun so he was holding it by the handle. Richard raised his face to Hanzo, looking at him, unwavering despite the barrel aimed between his eyes. 

Richard swallowed and continued speaking. 

He didn’t get far before Hanzo kicked him back to the ground. Hanzo felt his rib crack. Richard lay on the ground, clutching his side, gasping. He looked back up at Hanzo, only to meet the gun Hanzo aimed at his head.

“Where is he? Did you leave him behind? Is he rotting while you cower _like a dog?_ ” Hanzo screamed as he aimed another kick at Richard. 

Richard let out a muffled cry despite himself. He clutched his ribs and made a visible effort to breathe shallowly to lessen the pain. “No. I went back for him. His body is in a funeral home near here. The details will be sent to you soon.” Once again he climbed to his knees, struggling and shaking.

The implications were not lost on Hanzo. The deliberate drama since the airport, the drive to this spot, even the way that he moved to the back of the vehicle coupled with his earlier words all summed to one conclusion. 

Richard had brought him here fully expecting to be executed. 

Hanzo drew back his lips in a snarl. “At least you fully understand understand the weight of your crime.”

Richard hung his head. “I’m sorry. I loved him too.”

Hanzo’s rage overtook him. He roared, squeezing the trigger. The gun barked three times before Hanzo could stop himself. 

Richard made a strangled cry, his hands going to his bleeding ear, too much in pain to wonder why he was still alive. Hanzo wondered too. He stared at his traitorous hand that hadn’t shot the weapon into Richard’s head but to discharge near his ear instead.

Hanzo roared again before he hit him with his empty fist.

Richard went down, a trickle of blood beginning to stream from his ear. He was unconscious with glazed eyes and a gaping mouth. He knew that the younger man couldn’t hear his words, but he said them regardless.

“When we meet again, you will know death.”

He threw the gun into the tall grass, got into the car, and left Richard St. James bleeding on the cold Autumn ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: Matthew
> 
> Hou was always meant to die. 
> 
> At no point did I consider the question of not killing him off. 
> 
> Sharp-eyed readers would have noticed a line way back in Chapter 4 of Eidolon Whispers where Hanzo mentioned he had passed away. So this was planned all the way back in 2016 and this chapter was written in October of 2017, though published only now. (I create a buffer just in case I find I need to change details.)
> 
> I also challenged myself to not retcon any plot aspects. I thought that if I came across a bump in the road, I’d roll with it.
> 
> Things change between concept and solidifying the story into written word.
> 
> For one, right up to Chapter 3 of Riddle of Steel, I thought that Hou was cismale. 
> 
> Then in the middle of that chapter, he just up and said something that had me frowning for days.
> 
>  _Why did he say that?_ I asked myself. _Why was he so bitter?_
> 
> The answer came to me in the shower. 
> 
> It was so perfect and it _fit_. 
> 
> Hou was a transman.
> 
> Now, this is not the first incarnation of Hou. I’ve got at least two other versions of him, of characters that share the name Matthew Hou: one for the concept of an original story, the other for a role playing character. I never got either version off the ground for various reasons. Both were cismale and their characters were along the lines of a young Adrian. I didn’t need another character like Richard so I made him gentler, more compassionate and empathetic while still having the drive and ability for violent acts. 
> 
> Neither of those versions were trans.
> 
> In fact Hou being a transman brought up a couple of challenges.
> 
> One, _I had no idea how to write a transgender character._
> 
> In my head, Matthew grinned at me. You know that grin. 
> 
> Two, _oh shit, fridging a cismale character is one thing, trans character is another._
> 
> At this point, Matthew’s grin widened and he leaned back, hands behind his head.
> 
> The little shit. 
> 
> I’m straight cis as fuck. I knew nothing about the trans experience, but what I did have was access to trangender friends who were happy to answer my questions. I remain grateful for their kindness and patience with me. I tried my best to understand and express Hou better with their answers.
> 
> Hou being trans is also the reason why RoS is scripted out to 30 chapters. Now that he mattered I wanted to give him the proper respect by exploring and expanding on his character. 
> 
> It’s because he mattered that I didn’t describe his death. 
> 
> In my own way, I didn’t want to see him go and I didn’t want to write his death scene. 
> 
> I also know that this is not the last I’ll see of Matthew Hou. I recycle characters all the time before they’re made permanent in an original story and I suspect that I’ll see him again in the project that I have planned after RoS. 
> 
> Goodbye for now, Matt. You’re a little shit and a beautiful man.


	15. Whistling in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: dissociative state, idiot boys

**2076 - Gibraltar**

Adrian stumbled through the night, the unshed tears in his eyes stinging painfully. There was a gaping sore in his heart. It was an old scar and it bled freely with overwhelming pain. He clutched at his shirt, as if to staunch the bloodless wound. 

He stopped, clenching his eyes close to stop the inevitable flow of tears. Something said his name and he felt a touch on his arm, but it wasn’t something that could be registered on his senses.

He started to move again, limping on until he reached the end of the platform and the only way down was via a long ladder. Adrian gripped the railing and something caught his arm, but he only lowered himself to sit on the edge, his legs dangling. He stared at the empty darkness of the warehouse, not seeing anything as the tears finally streamed down his face. 

Adrian was not aware of how he got down the ladder. He was barely aware of where he was. There was something on his arm. It refused to let go when he tried to brush it off. He let it be. His feet guided him through the night-dark halls. His footsteps echoed strangely. It sounded like metal. Metal. Metal.

He liked metal. 

Metal was good, comforting. 

You could put your trust in steel. 

He was touching metal. It felt like a hand. Adrian stopped and looked, turning the hand for a closer look. Someone was saying something. He gave the hand a confused look and dropped it, walking away again.

Adrian found himself sitting at one point. The ground was cold, but there was something warm around him. He was turning a metal sphere in his hands. It glowed with a golden light and looked familiar. 

His face felt wet and he touched it, looking with wonder at the moisture that glistened in the ambient light. He dropped the metal sphere and climbed to his feet. Something fell off his back but he paid it no mind. His name was called out and Adrian paused, looking around, but he didn’t see anyone. He continued walking, letting his feet guide their path. Then something grabbed his arm in a rough manner. Adrian cried out, cringing away. He was let go, then grabbed again, less rough this time, and his arms helped into sleeves. He hadn’t realised how cold he had been until then. When the hands let him go, he stood for a minute, confused as to their purpose, but they didn’t accost him again and he turned away.

Then he found himself in a large room. It was cavernously large and his steps echoed. There were shapes in the darkness, but they were familiar, like old friends. He touched something large and heavy and it moved, swaying from a chain from the ceiling.

Adrian sympathised. 

He even envied. 

It creaked when he pushed it again, swinging gently. It felt solid, dependable. Everything he was not.

Everything he tried to be but failed and failed so miserably to be. 

How dare it?

How dare this thing be more than he was?

Did it even have a name? The nerve.

He shrugged off the jacket, felt the kiss of the chill night bite through his shirt, and jabbed a punch at his target. There was something wrong with his leg and his balance was off. His shoulder hurt. His hand hurt. 

Weak.

That’s what he was. 

He hurt because he was weak.

He screamed and jabbed again, relishing the shock of pain that travelled up his arm. He threw punch after punch, venting his rage each time his fist connected against the hard surface. He quickly fell into a rhythm as he brought his fists up, moving so his left was on guard. The anger of his initial onslaught narrowed into a focus where his entire world was the punching bag before him. The dull thud from the bag that sounded each time his fist connected echoed pleasantly through the darkened room. 

Adrian stopped, eventually. He was panting, and his body hurt. His shoulders, his legs, his back, and his fists, all stung from various levels of aches. It sharpened his mind, cleared the fog and brought him into the present. He was aware of his body heat and his soaked clothes and the cold air that promised to chill him if he didn’t find his coat.

He looked down at his hands, the bruised and bleeding knuckles. Flexing them made his skin cry out against the abuse. He didn’t feel better, just tired and aware.

Running his hands through his hair, he looked around, trying to assess the damage to the room. He was relieved to see that he’d only aimed his rage at the boxing bag. He found his jacket at his feet and bent to pick it up and began to pull it on.

Then a voice made him pause. 

“Well. I am glad that you have stopped. I had thought you were going to kill yourself.”

Adrian paused to look around. The gym was dark, lit only with a little moonlight that shone in from the high windows. The moon was so close to full that he could almost hear the song…

Then Genji moved and the spell was broken. The cybernetic ninja was standing dark and still beside a row of resistance machines. His lights blinked on, neon green and bright in the darkness. He moved away from the exercise machines, elegant finesse in his movements.

Adrian could feel the heat growing in his ears, the bloom moving up his neck and inching towards his cheeks.

“Do not worry. Genji is with you.”

“What did you see?” Adrian wasn’t sure how much dread he had been able to keep from his voice. “How much?”

Genji shrugged, a movement of poetic engineering.

“I was there from the beginning.” The green visor tilted to the side. “I was concerned. There were a few times where you would have fallen… The heights I could have saved you from, but I am a bad swimmer.” There was a lightness in his voice that hinted that he meant well. 

“Why?”

Genji considered this question. “I think that it perhaps that I am approximately sixty-five percent metal alloy.”

“No! Why are you always there? Why are you always following me? What do you  _ want _ from me?”

Genji’s mask and visor were unfathomable and blank. Even if they could show emotion, his back was to the window, leaving his face in shadow.

“Are you laughing at me? Is that why you are always seeking me out?” 

“You are wrong. I am not laughing at you. I thought that you are an interesting person. I l-like you. That opinion has not changed.” Adrian caught the uncharacteristic stutter in his speech.

“Take off your mask.” The words left Adrian’s mouth before he could stop them. He did not regret them and stared intently at Genji.

Genji paused for a long moment. He was still, unmoving like a statue that once held life, or like an ancient warrior, he found himself caught in Adrian’s gaze. Adrian thought for a moment that he had made a mistake. He took a step forward but Genji’s hands were already moving upwards. Those miracles of engineering deftly undid the seals on first the visor across Genji’s eyes, then the mask that covered his lower face. 

Adrian couldn’t see anything in the darkness. The lights from Genji’s shoulders and chest did little to illuminate anything more than a hint of high cheekbones, a fine nose and well shaped lips, and the dents in the flesh where scars ran their furrows.

“I am not laughing.”

It sounded like him. Flatter, less electronic and flanged, but it was definitely Genji.

Adrian took a step forward. He couldn’t see Genji’s eyes. What did they show? What colour were they?

“They had been brown once. They are now a dull red.”

Adrian took another step forward, then another. He dismissed his surprise at that question slipping out, his focus now on Genji’s face.

Genji stayed frozen in his spot, seemingly arrested by something he saw in Adrian’s eyes. He didn’t pull away when Adrian reached for him. 

They kissed in the moonlight. 

It was raw and powerful. Their teeth met, clicking together. It was more a push and pull of wills than a declaration of passion. It was challenge and mastery, filled with teeth and bruising force. 

It changed. It became a hungry thing that consumed and when it had it’s fill, it changed again. Where it was hunger, there was now greed. Sated, the beast still desired to explore and savour. 

Then it changed again.

It slowed. It became something  _ real _ . Something soft, something filled with little sounds. Something gentle that caressed more than bit.

They pulled apart, sharing breath as they panted lightly. A name was whispered, perhaps another. Foreheads pressed together.

Then Adrian’s head snapped up. He pulled away from Genji, his hand going to his mouth. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. What have I done… I’m so sorry.”

He turned, stumbling away and out into the halls.

*

Genji let him go. He watched Adrian’s retreating back and made no attempt to follow him. He knew that Athena was keeping an eye on the blond assassin. He stayed where he was, rooted to the spot. He looked down at his hands. They were still holding his mask and visor. He looked up at the ceiling. It was illuminated by the near-full moon. He looked around the room. Nothing had changed about it.

He took a breath, suddenly realising he was close to choking from lack of air.

He exhaled and touched the tips of his metal fingers to his lips.

Shimada Genji then said a single word.

“Wow.”

 

***

Dawn broke over Watchpoint: Gibraltar. 

It felt like the morning after a storm, with clean and clear skies. In a few ways, it was exactly that.

Adrian found Hanzo on the east facing side of the base. The older man nursed his flask close against his chest as he looked out over the sea toward the rising sun. Adrian made his way over the rocks, aching and bruised in body and heart and hands. Hanzo turned his head to look at his approaching student.

"How was your night?" Hanzo then took a swig from his gourd. 

Adrian sagged against the cliff face, lifting a cigarette to his mouth. "I kissed Genji in a fury. How was yours?" 

Hanzo studied the horizon for a long moment. "I think I broke up with Jesse." Master and student lifted their hands to their mouths to take either a drink or a smoke as they looked out towards the sea.

“I don't think I should be here,” said Adrian after a long silence.

Hanzo turned his head to look at his student. “Adrian…”

The younger man shook his head. “It’s true. I’m a distraction for you, and I can’t concentrate on my own recovery. I have messed things up for Genji and I’ve been ignoring Hana.” Adrian sank to sit on the rocks. “I’ve booked a flight to Paris. Mother is there. I’m leaving on the evening flight.”

Hanzo looked down at his flask. He said nothing and after a while, he sighed. “And I am unable to properly overlook your recovery. I have failed you as your sensei.”

Adrian squeezed his eyes. “You haven’t. I failed myself. I lost control and forced a kiss on Genji.”

Hanzo stared at Adrian. “Do you really think you could do anything to  _ Genji _ without his say so?”

Adrian shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. All I know is that it wasn’t me.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I need to talk to Dr. Ziegler and have her transfer any non-classified medical files to my doctor in Paris.”

Hanzo gestured with his gourd. “I may be sober enough to drive you to the airport.”

Adrian managed a weak laugh. “I’ll manage.”

“Hmm. I think I’ll visit you. I may need a change of scenery for a little while.”

“You are always welcome.”

There was silence again. 

“I’ll need to apologise to Yin and Ren. I promised I’d be here to meet them.”

“Heh. And not Whiskers?”

Adrian quirked a small smile. “He wouldn’t understand an apology.”

“Regardless, you should leave some of your gear behind.”

“Yes, heh, the weapons at least. All I’m bringing on the plane is a graphite pen.”

Hanzo chuckled then sighed. “What happened last night, Adrian? How did you lose control?”

Adrian flung a small stone into the sea. “I entered a dissociative state.”

Hanzo started upwards. “Why was I not informed? Why did nobody tell my my student was in distress?” 

Adrian shrugged. “I don’t know. Genji was with me, and I think Zenyatta too, at one stage.”

Hanzo was shaking his head. “This is unacceptable. My apologies. It is I who have failed you.”

“You did not.” Adrian looked towards the sea. “I didn’t know you and Matt were engaged. I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t meant to know. I knew it would distress you. There is nothing to apologise for. What is done, is done.”

Adrian slumped further down on his rocky seat, his mouth an unhappy slash. He didn’t say anything, knowing the futility of arguing against Hanzo. Finally he sighed, tired of blue sea and brightening sky. He pushed himself to his feet, still leaning against the rock. “I’ll go pack. I’ll leave behind a few things if you promise not to steal more of my tee shirts.”

“My word is my bond,” said Hanzo, smirking as he took another drink. 

Adrian sighed, feeling prosecuted. “Such lies.” He waved as he limped away. He sent a message to Angela while on his way back into the base. A reply came back almost immediately, securing him an appointment for midday. He shook his head at vigilantly awake medical professionals and dragged his way through the series of hallways until he found himself at his door. He blinked when the palm reader failed to unlock and open the doors. Then he noticed the nameplate and groaned. He pressed his forehead on the cold metal wall, cursing his subconscious mind.

Of course it was Genji's door. 

He stared at the door for untold minutes. He spent much of that time debating with himself. Should he knock? Should he leave without a word? It was quite early, Genji could still be in bed. 

Adrian knocked his forehead against the wall again. 

Then again, could he risk leaving Gibraltar without speaking to Genji and apologising to him?

Could he even look Genji in the eyes?

Adrian signed deeply. He raised his hand to press on the buzzer when a small cough behind him froze his hand in midair.

He turned to see Hana standing in her own doorway opposite Genji’s. She looked tired with droopy eyes and a bunny-themed sleep mask pushed up on her forehead.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

Hana yawned. “Nah, I was lying in bed. Just wondered who was outside Genji’s door since Winston sent him on a mission last night.”

Adrian felt the abyss open at his feet. He let out a groan and clung to the wall.

“Arrrre you okay?”

He sighed. “No. I am not okay.” A quick rummage through his pockets produced a marker pen. Hana watched on in concern as Adrian scribbled his number on the door, signing it with a quick  _ Call me _ underneath it. 

Adrian looked down to his elbow where Hana clutched his sleeve. She was leaning over hallway, one hand braced on door of her own room as she balanced on one leg. “Hey, you want to come in and talk?”

“I guess. I don’t have much to do before my appointment with Dr. Zeigler before lunch.”

“Wow, oppa, you know how to make a girl feel wanted.”

Adrian squeezed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been up all night.” He let Hana pull him into her room. She continued pulling on his sleeve as she hopped into the room and he followed after. They collapsed onto the narrow bed. Adrian flung his arm over his eyes, Hana a slight weight at his side. 

“I’m sorry, cabbage. I don’t think I can make Disneyland happen for a few more months.” 

Hana propped herself up on her elbow. “What  _ is _ going on with you?”

Adrian’s chest rose and fell in a sigh. “I kissed Genji last night.”

He heard a loud gasp.

“Oh my god.”

He prepared himself for the highest censure.

“That’s great!”

Oh. This was worse.

“It’s not. I forced the kiss on him.”

“...On Genji? You forced  _ Genji _ to do something?”

From Hana too?

“That is not the point.” Adrian pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

“Okay, so what is?”

Adrian sighed again, sinking further into the mattress. “I don’t have the brain to explain. Can I tell you after a nap?”

Hana snorted.

Adrian took that as permission and set his alarm for half an hour before his appointment with Dr. Ziegler.

There was silence for a while. Then Adrian said, “I’m leaving for Paris this evening.”

“Okay?”

“I’m not sure when I’ll be returning.”

“Are you leaving because you’re upset about kissing Genji? You’re not, are you? I mean, Genji seemed fine last night.” She paused. “Actually, he was a little distracted but he still seemed alert. It was McCree who was barely there.”

Adrian exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. “Sensei thinks he and St. McCree broke up last night.”

“Oh my god! What?!”

Adrian shrugged. “I didn’t ask for details.” He rubbed his face. “Sensei says he might come over to Paris to visit. You’re welcome to come along.”

“Hmm! Can I bring Lucio?”

“Heh. But not your MEKA. I just don’t have the room and she clashes with my whole apartment.” He chastely kissed the top of her head before slipping into a light sleep, undisturbed by Hana drumming her fingers lightly on his chest. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: It’s around this point where I realised that what with work and so forth I couldn't sensibly handle a 6k chapter a month anymore. Since I’m trying to finish the fic before 2019, this means a reduced word count. Don’t worry, I won’t leave anything out from the main storyline.
> 
> Also, they finally kissed!
> 
> Also, who's surprised Adrian's an idiot?
> 
> Thank you to Evanelric my ever patient beta and thank you to all of you for reading, kudosing and leaving comments. I read and love them all.


	16. Grasping At Straws

**2069 - Boston**

Richard was barely stirring to consciousness when he sensed rather than heard that he was no longer alone. He was on hard ground still, the dry grass scratching his face. Something soft touched the side of his face, and then there were words in his head. They weren’t intrusive. They were more like thoughts you would have in your head even when you knew they didn’t come from you.

_ He’s alive. I sniffed him and my instincts say that he’s still a viable food-giver. _

The words niggled through his fog of confusion then he realised. Oh. It was the cat. 

_ I shall now meow annoyingly until he wakes to feed me. _

There were hands on him, feeling his limbs and his body before turning him on his back.

Richard opened his eyes to see a pale oval of a face bending over him. Their mouth moved, but their voice seemed muffled, as if they came from far away. 

He must have drifted into unconsciousness, because when he next woke, he was lying on the backseat of a vehicle, his head cushioned by something soft and firm. The fair oval of a face was looking down at him again. Their mouth was moving and words were being said, but sound was coming to Richard’s ears through a fog.

The darkness claimed him again.

Then he was in a hard bed in an unfamiliar room. Renegade was sitting nearby in a comfortable looking armchair, gently strumming at his guitar. A strange woman was in the other chair opposite him. QT Whiskers was in her lap, curled up and purring.

“Hey, dickface. Glad to see you’re up.” Renegade’s words sounded soft, muffled.

Richard flicked him the bird. He was glad to see that Hanzo hadn't broken his fingers while he was out.

Ren snorted. “That's a real mature response. Real grateful considering we saved your butt.”

Richard opened his mouth, running his tongue over the back of his teeth. They seemed fine if his mouth felt very dry.

“Why are you whispering?” His voice sounded like it echoed in his head. 

Renegade gave him a strange look. “I think we should wait for the doc to get here.” 

Richard frowned, then winced as a stabbing pain shot through his head. He raised his hand to find the side of head bandaged. “Forget the doctor, is my mother here? And who is that?” He flicked his fingers in the direction of the sleeping woman.

“Dunno really. It was your cousin who told us where to go. Think your uncle’s outside.  _ That _ is my sister. Dunno how you forgot.” Ren grinned slyly. “Since you were all over her in the truck, what with you proclaiming your eternal love for her.”

“Unlikely story.” Richard snorted slightly. He let his head fall back on the pillow. Renegade chuckled and returned to his guitar strumming. 

“Why are you playing so softly?”

“I ain’t.”

Richard remembered the shots that Hanzo had fired near his head. He lifted a hand to the dressings over his ear. He breathed out a soft curse as his hand dropped back to the bed. A wetness began to build at the corners of his eyes.

“Hey St. James? You okay?” Renegade’s voice was hesitant.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Ren had an unfamiliar look of concern on his face but before he could say something the door opened and Donovan Everard walked into the room.

Richard had to be thankful for small mercies because if it had been either Mother or perhaps his uncle Christian, he might have broken down, strangers notwithstanding. His grandmother’s brother steadily met his gaze and nodded. He looked like he would have liked to say more but he looked at Renegade and his still sleeping sister, then back at Richard before raising his brow and exiting the room without a word.

Richard let out a soft exhale, letting his head drop back to the pillow and his eyes close. After a moment, Renegade continued his soft strumming. Richard strained to hear the soft chords… or rather the chords that were now soft due to inevitable damage in his ear canal. 

Then he said something and Renegade stopped his strumming.

Months ago, when they first met, Richard met Renegade’s guitar with a cynical eye. Of  _ course _ the cowboy would have such an instrument. He was a fool to think otherwise and was too lucky that it wasn’t something awful like a banjo.

Beggars could not be choosers, however, and he was loathe to admit that he was now a pauper, at least in terms of friends. 

“Please,” he repeated himself. “Tune your guitar to C sharp.” He opened his eyes to look at his roommate.

Renegade looked up at him, gaping like the farmhand he was. “Buddy, what?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself a third time.”

“Nah, I heard you. I mean, why?”

Richard sighed. “I need to know if I can still hit my notes.” Renegade looked at him blankly. “Song notes.”

“Yeah, I got that. I just didn’t think you were the type to know how to sing.” At Richard’s questioning expression, he elaborated. “Because you’re a stone cold psychopath.”

It was clear that Ren didn’t expect Richard’s burst of laughter. “I  _ wish _ .” Richard’s lips briefly twisted into something ugly. He rubbed his face then looked back at Renegade. “Will you help me?”

“Well… Y’gonna offer me something to sweeten the deal?”

Richard frowned. “Money?”

“Pshh. Naw, I don’t need your money.” Ren leaned back, smirking. “How ‘bout this, if you still got any skill at singing, you gotta come with me at open mic night.”

Richard gave his roommate an incredulous stare. “You mean perform in public? Like a common singer?”

“Right, now you got me curious.” It was clear that Renegade had expected him to demure out of bashfulness. He reached for the pegs at the neck. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Richard snorted. “Play Danny Boy,” he said, then hummed to warm up his voice. He ignored Renegade’s annoyed mutterings and concentrated on his own instrument. Everything seemed fine in his voice, and logic dictated that even if his hearing in one ear was damaged, that should not affect his voice. A thought niggled, however. A creeping thought that feasted on the feeling that he had taken his gift for song for granted. And why should he think it was anything special? It was just another family trait, like blond hair and fair eyes. 

Only now he was close to losing it.

Richard opened his eyes to see Renegade looking at him. The cowboy quirked a smile, as if he didn’t expect much, and began strumming the first few bars. Richard could barely hear the chords, but Danny Boy was a favourite drinking song. He would have to count his notes. 

Richard waited for his cue then opened his mouth.

 

******

 

**2076 November - Two Weeks After Adrian’s Departure**

 

Hana Song popped her gum, loud and obnoxious. 

Neither of the two men waiting with her on the platform reacted.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, continuing to chew her gum, her whole attitude one of disdain for her two older friends’ completely and utterly childish reactions to the other’s presence. 

“So you know, Paris was great. Oppa took us around and showed us the Eiffel Tower. He even bought a private tour for Lucio and me so we could look at the tiny apartment at the top. That was so sneaky of Mr. Eiffel to design that tiny place for himself.”

No reaction. Hana didn’t expect one from Hanzo, who already knew about her tour even if all he did was stay back to talk with Adrian’s mother. 

She rolled her eyes again and pulled out the big guns. This was a paper bag of chocolate truffles that she’d brought back from her trip. She thrust them first at McCree, then Hanzo. “Chockies?”

At last, a reaction! McCree reached into the bag for a chocolate coated treat, and so did Hanzo. They were alive! Her elation was short lived when both men returned to their human statue impersonations.

She wondered if her eyes were in danger of dropping out, she’d rolled them so much. Huffing a loud sigh, Hana spat out her gum into her hand and stuck it on the railing behind her before popping a cocoa covered truffle into her mouth.

Bittersweet flavours burst over her tongue, but Hana stubbornly refused to shift her expression from her scowl. 

That scowl stayed in place until the transport appeared over the horizon. It stayed in place as the transport swooped over the base and landed on the pad. Hana Song kept on scowling right up to the transport doors opening and a tall, woman with long dark hair stepping out. 

“!”

“Gogo! Hanzo-san!” The woman waved then jogged down the ramp. Somehow her mere presence was able to shake Hanzo and McCree from their bad tempered state. Oblivious to their sullen moods, she kissed them on the cheeks before smiling winsomely at Hana. “Hi there, you must be Hana, Ads has told me so much about you. I’m Falcon Yin, but you can call me Yin.” Yin winked, and her hand was calloused but warm, closing around Hana’s small fingers gently. 

It was as if Hana’s hand was a treasured bird that Yin had cupped hers around protectively. 

“!” she said again, but her wordless exclamation was swallowed by a clatter at the door of the transport. Yin turned her head, her loose hair flaring out like a waterfall. Hana stared, entranced, as Yin strode over to the transport, her long legs taking her there with confidence, Hanzo and McCree following after to lend a hand.

Hana jumped a little as Lena looped her arm around her shoulders and gently closed her mouth with a light touch to her jaw. 

“Ease up, love,” said Tracer. “Not that I blame you.” She winked, then pushed something into Hana’s arms. “Here, hold this little guy.”

Oh, a cat box with a gray cat inside.

 

******

 

McCree clasped Renegade’s hand and turned so he didn’t have to look at Hanzo greeting his little brother like an old friend. It was a couple of weeks since their fight, but it still stung to see Hanzo and remember that  _ he didn’t matter _ in Hanzo’s life. McCree fixed a smile when he turned back to Renegade. He didn’t want his brother picking up on his foul mood. So he was glad when Hanzo shouldered a bag and walked away with it. McCree looked down on the platform and frowned when he saw that Hana was holding a large gray cat in her arms. She also seemed to be talking to someone taller than her. Someone invisible.

He was about to go down and find out what was what when Renegade caught hold of his arm. “It’s fine, Jesse. It’s the cat, Whiskers. He’s magic ya see?”

McCree looked at the cat then back at his brother. “The hell?”

“He’s a real lawyer, graduated the same year I did at Harvard. Ads and his uncle reckon he’s magic. Whiskers puts out this illusion, this glamour thing. You can see past it if you have magic.”

McCree worked his jaw. “Bro, that’s crazy talk.”

“You telling me your Dead Eye is natural then? Like you can mow down nine men with six bullets all natural like.”

“Okay, point.” He let the point go for now and looked out at Hana again. “Is the cat going to hurt her?”

“Nah, he just likes being spoiled. Yin might hurt you though.”

McCree turned to look at Renegade, his brows raising.

“If you don’t come to Thanksgiving with us.”

Jesse rubbed his face. “Bro, look. I don’t think I can. Hanzo and I broke up, ya see, and I know that Hanzo has a regular standing thing with your folks. It's gonna be real awkward.”

“Uh huh. That don’t mean you can’t come along. Bring a friend, bring Genji.”

“Ren, didn’t ya hear what I just said?”

“I heard you good, bro, but if you don’t say yes to me, Yin’s gonna ask ya and no man on Earth can say no to Yin.”

McCree opened his mouth then closed it. He unconsciously rubbed his arm. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” 

Ren nodded. Neither brother mentioned how good Yin was at twisting arms. Literally.

“Still don’t think it’s a good idea being in close quarters with Hanzo. I didn’t want to say, but we haven’t talked for weeks.”

Ren shrugged. “Sorry, bro. But orders is orders.” He looked out at Hana again then blinked. “Is that Hana Song?  _ The _ Hana Song?”

“Heh, yeah, that’s her, alright. Close your jaw, kid. You’re letting the flies in.”

“You gonna introduce us, right?”

McCree rubbed his jaw. “I dunno. I mean, it's gonna be uncomfortable on the ranch what with me an’ Hanzo not talking. I gotta take my amusement somewhere.”

“Aw, bro.”

McCree grinned. “C’mon then.” He clapped his brother over the shoulder and led him down the ramp.

 

**2076 A week later**

 

Hanzo said nothing as Genji joined him on top of the communications tower. He lifted his flask to his lips and looked out towards the sea. He had wondered when they would send his brother to him. It had been an hour or two since he’d noticed the transport returning Genji from his mission; enough time to be debriefed from said mission and also be briefed on Hanzo’s current state.

Genji didn’t say a thing as he gracefully sank to sit cross-legged beside him, and when he spoke, some minutes later, it was not the subject that Hanzo was expecting.

“I recall years ago, when I was filled with a depthless rage, a small man who wielded two Chinese swords. He had astonishing agility and he balanced mischief and empathy with equal deftness. He offered me his help even though I had but a moment before been trying to kill him. He called himself Monkey Man. Was this your Matthew? Your  _ Saru _ ?”

Hanzo felt a lump develop in his throat, his mouth drying in a manner that had nothing to do with the spirits he was drinking. “It is Hou, not Saru, and yes that was him.” He felt none of that fury that consumed him when McCree prodded the wound. Instead, there was only that old sorrow and loss that was barely healed despite the years that passed.

“Hah! You had fallen for such a brat. He threw fruit at me, anija. Fruit! Sticky flesh got stuck in my vents and I had to be hosed down like a miscreant!”

A startled chortle escaped Hanzo’s lips, his hand coming up to his mouth.

“ _ Twice _ , anija! If it weren’t for the fact that he also saved your life both times, I would not now consider that he would have been a good addition to the family.”

That pulled Hanzo from his drunken haze. “Yes, Matthew saved my life in many ways. In which two ways did you mean?”

“Why, the times when I was hunting your trail to end you, of course.”

Hanzo frowned, then realisation widened his eyes. “The red and black omnic… That was you. I almost killed you! Again!”

“Yes, it was a good shot! It was very well done. I didn’t expect half a wall to fall on me. I would have killed your Hou.” Genji shrugged. “I was not thinking well in those days. Vengeance consumed me.”

“Heh.” Memory stirred. “He knew. He knew who you were and he never told me.” Hanzo turned back to his flask, tipping his head back for a drink. “I might have let you kill me if you had found me a year earlier.”

“Would you have, really?” Genji tilted his head to the side.

Hanzo opened his mouth to say yes, but the faces of his cousins flashed before his eyes, their expressions frozen in death, rictuses of pain and-

“No.” Hanzo didn’t elaborate and took another drink.

Genji gave him a long look before turning back to look at the sea.

“Did I tell you that I met Adrian’s daughter?”

Hanzo gave his brother an owlish look. “Which one? Adria or Sarasa?”

“Ah… the toddler. I had not asked her name at the time.”

“Adria,” Hanzo said, nodding. 

“Hmm. It had inspired me to think about my own daughter.”

Hanzo’s thought process screeching to a stop was almost audible.

“You… have…” He tried to organize his thoughts. “You fathered a child?”

“Yes.” The green visor turned to look at him. “Did you never wonder who Sayuri’s father was?”

“Sayuri. Naoko’s child?”

“Do you know another, anija?”

“Our cousin, Naoko?”

“The very same.”

“You mean to say that you  _ impregnated _ our cousin?”

“ _ Hai _ . Were you not listening, anija?”

“You impregnated  _ our cousin _ ?”

“Anija, the answer is not going to change no matter how many times you repeat the question.”

“ _ You _ impregnated  _ our cousin! _ ”

“Yes, I did.”

There was a crack and a crunch of bone. Genji turned his head back to look up at his brother. Hanzo had rose to his feet and struck out at Genji before he had a chance to react.

“You let her stand alone against the anger of the clan!”

“Yes.” Genji’s tone was calm in the face of Hanzo’s fury. “That is because Naoko would not let me claim Sayuri.”

The anger left Hanzo like a candle snuffed by a cold wind.

“Why do you think I was so angry at the time? Naoko would always hand Sayuri to you first and you were always there for her. The one thing that was mine and mine alone was being usurped by you.” Genji’s head tilted to the side again. “She told me that because of my ill standing with the clan, Sayuri would be killed as we were so closely related. Yet she was perfectly happy for the clan to think that you were the father, a role that you were more than perfectly happy to fill. I was good enough to bed, but not good enough to be her child’s father.” Genji shrugged. 

“Brother, I…” Hanzo sank back to the floor.

“Anija, I don’t blame you. I am no longer angry. I have let my anger go. This was not always so, anija. Do you wonder who had decimated much of the clan seniority in the past few years?”

Hanzo held his gaze. “You mean other than myself? No, I was not motivated enough to find out. I see now that it was you.”

Genji inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I looked for you many times, anija. I looked for Naoko as well. I may as well have been hunting ghosts.”

Hanzo soberly looked out to sea. “That is an interesting choice of words, brother.” He reached for his flask but found his right hand swollen and broken. He gave the injury little thought and used his left hand. “The clan sent Akio, Aito and Naoko on my trail. They found me in the second year of my exile. They did not survive the encounter.” He drank and tasted nothing of the drink. 

Genji was silent for a moment. Then he exhaled softly, a soft sigh. “Ah. I think I had expected as much. What of Sayuri?” There was an expectation in his voice that indicated he would be more surprised if Hanzo didn’t know where his niece was.

Hanzo didn’t disappoint. “She is being raised by her grandfather. They have moved to Kyoto for her studies.” Hanzo set his flask down and pulled out his phone. He unlocked it and handed it to Genji. “She is painfully talented and gifted.”

“Is she?” Genji found the folder with ease. He thumbed through the images and viewed the most recent file, a short video of Sayuri, ten years old and demonstrating her sword katas with an intensity that belied her years. “She looks like you.” The old bitterness in his voice surprised him. 

“So Adrian tells me.”

That raised more questions than answered them. “Anjia, do you mean to say you have not seen her?”

“How can I when her mother died at my hands?”

Genji acknowledged this with a tilt of his head. He looked back at the images of Sayuri, a slight girl with a serious expression, her face framed by a severe bob. All of them were taken in a school environment. He found himself laughing softly. “You sent Adrian undercover to her school.”

Hanzo made a disgusted noise. “He enjoyed playing the foreign teacher too much.” 

Genji laughed softly again and looked back at the images. They went back for a few years. The more recent pictures were taken in school but the earlier images were snapped via telescopic lens from a distance. He found himself not looking at Sayuri but at the composition and framing of the pictures, a smile forming behind his mask. He was not yet ready to examine the warmth that bloomed in his chest from the knowledge that Adrian had been watching over his daughter. He handed the phone back to his brother. 

“Is she happy, anija?”

The answer was long in coming. In the end Hanzo sighed and rubbed his eyes. “She is warm, well-treated and is perhaps even held in fondness by her grandfather. However, Adrian tells me that she does not smile often.”

Genji nodded in understanding. He stood. “Come, let’s take you to Angela. Your hand is in need of attention and I have much to think about.”

Hanzo made no move to do as Genji said. The cyborg was patient, however, and merely held his own hand out. His patience won out against Hanzo’s despondence as the older brother grasped the younger’s hand with his good one and let himself be guided away from his sea views.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to all of you. I say this all the time in the notes, but I really appreciate that each and everyone of you take the time to read each update in my little tale. 
> 
> This update is a little early mostly so to push myself to write the next chapter faster.
> 
> Thank you, as always, to Evanelric. Patient friend, yelling beta.


	17. Baby Steps

**2070**

Renegade ran his pick over the strings of his guitar. He plucked and strummed the notes of the song, concentrating on his own part as he watched Richard sing. It never ceased to surprise Ren just how good a voice his roommate had, and it wasn’t just the technical skills either. Richard had struck him as a stone cold killer, the type he’d know that he’d hear about years from on the news. It was just a matter of proof and evidence. He knew for a fact that there were days when Richard would come back to the dorms, his hands bandaged and knuckles bruised. Renegade would hold his breath, ready to call the police at the first sign of a body reported in the news. 

Generally there was one, but the victims were never what Renegade expected. There was always a gangster or two or even another serial killer that had been found. Richard would smile slightly and Renegade would know. He didn’t report him to the police as he thought but bade his time. 

Renegade just didn’t think that someone as cold as Richard could sing with soul and feeling. Richard did so now, Renegade’s borrowed hat in his hand and covering his face and he bent to the microphone. Tears were running down his face as he sang.

It wasn’t every song, but three bars in their current set, Richard took his mic and went and grabbed the hat off Renegade’s head and with an unwavering voice, sang his heart away.

_ “As she stepped away from me and she moved through the fair _

_ And fondly I watched her move here and move there” _

The lights facing the stage hid the audience from Ren’s view, but he could tell that they were hushed, captured by the performance. Richard’s voice remained steady until the last note. Then he bowed, tossed the hat back at Ren and exited the stage.

Ren stayed long enough to thank their audience before venturing backstage to find his roommate. He was no fool. He had been playing at these open mics with Richard long enough to know that not every song effected him. He found him outside on the landing beside the stage door. His back to the wall and face to the cool Autumn air, tears still wet on his face. He made no effort to hide the fact he’d been crying as Renegade took up position beside him against the wall.

“Hey, dickface.”

Richard snorted lightly. “Not at the bar charming your way through your admirers?”

Ren strummed his guitar lightly. “Nah. There’s time later.” He looked thoughtfully up at the stars above them. “So, answer me a question? How’s that girl of yours?”

“What girl?”

“The one in the song. The one you’re so upset about.”

“Matt was never mine.” The bitterness was palpable in Richard’s voice. Ren could taste it in the back of his throat. “And now, he can never be. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“That’s rough, buddy.” Ren offered his pack of cigarettes. The two young men shared silence as they blew out smoke into the chill air. 

“Say. Yin says you must come down for Thanksgiving.”

“Excuse me?”

Renegade shrugged. “Yin thinks you’re a poor lost soul that needs feeding.” Ren knew better than to argue with Yin. Her glare was scary.

“I cannot begin to describe what a bad idea this is.”

“You’re telling me. But if you don’t come, Yin’s going to hurt me.”

Richard looked sideways at him. “And this concerns me how?”

“If she hurts me, that means I gotta hurt you back.”

“Your logic is flawed.”

Renegade shrugged again. “I’m just telling it like it is.”

“It’s still flawed.” Richard blew out a stream of smoke. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah, you do that. I mean, whatcha gonna do up here by yourself?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things. Perhaps I’ll catsit.”

“Oh yeah, I’m taking Whiskers with me. He’s never seen a ranch in his life.” 

Richard snorted.

“We got horses.” 

“I hate horses. They’re arrogant and have murderous eyes.”

Renegade barely refrained from commenting.

“They’ll break your legs as soon as look at you.” Richard breathed out his inhaled smoke though his nostrils. 

“I honestly can’t say where you’re going with this.”

Richard stubbed out the cigarette butt against the brick wall. “I’ve decided. I’ll go join your family for Thanksgiving. Someone has to make sure the cat doesn’t get killed. I can push back my business until December. Enjoy your night out.”

He flicked away his cigarette butt and climbed down the landing to saunter out of the alley. Renegade frowned. He didn’t like the allusion to Richard’s business one bit.

 

**2076, November**

Dr. Ziegler was mercifully silent as she examined Hanzo’s hand. She accepted Genji’s story of how Hanzo’s hand was broken when he stuck it out to break a fall with only a raised eyebrow. Wholly radiating disapproving incredulity, she examined the poorly used hand. She was not amused and neither was Hanzo when she proclaimed her prognosis.

“Surgery? Surely this is a joke!”

Words could not convey Hanzo’s incredulity. 

“I count at least five broken bones in your hand. They will need realignment and pins. I am not joking.”

“It hardly hurts at all.” A lie. A small one. “Can you not just…” he waved his uninjured hand at the Caduceus Staff that was leaning nearby against a wall.

“It does not work that way, anija.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Hanzo.”

“Biotics can only speed healing. On untreated bones, they will only fuse unnaturally. And then they will need to be broken to be fixed properly. It is better this way.” He patted Hanzo on the shoulder. “Believe me.”

Hanzo opened his mouth, then shut it. He didn’t need a detailed list of Genji’s own damages to remind him of what his brother had suffered. He offered his hand to Doctor Ziegler without further comment. 

He woke the next day with a head full of fuzz and aches. His mouth was dry and his eyes itched. Looking down, he saw that one hand was indeed indeed bandaged and braced, the other had an IV leading into the veins in his arm. 

Hanzo sighed. 

Dr. Ziegler appeared in his view, allerted by his slight movements. There were questions after he was given some water to drink, and then, satisfied by his progress, left him to sleep his headache away.

Genji came, bringing with him food and spare clothing. “Angela says that you can sleep in your bed tonight.”

Hanzo scowled. “A pleasant luxury considering I will be spending the next month in recovery.” A week for the bones to knit and at least two weeks to rehabilitate his hand. No archer can draw a bow with only one hand. 

“And that is how I know you are feeling better, anija. Your bad mood tells me much.” Genji cheerfully presented Hanzo with his meal. The cover was lifted from the stoneware bowl and Hanzo was greeted with the smell of fragrant herbs and the sight of a heartily cooked rice porridge. 

Hanzo stared at the meal. It looked edible. “Did you make this?”

Genji sighed. “No, I apologise. Mei prepared this before I even made it to the kitchen.”

“Ah.” He hoped the relief didn’t show in his face or tone. “I will need to thank Mei Ling.”

Genji nodded. “But that will need to happen when you come back.”

Hanzo’s spoon was part way to his mouth. “Excuse me?”

“Yes! Preparations for your care were made while you were unconscious. Yin intends to spirit you away to her family ranch so you can recover in peace.”

“That is unnecessary.”

“The preparations have already been made, anija. Angela has given her approval. Do not worry, I will join you next week.” At Hanzo’s blank look, he elaborated. “For Thanksgiving. Yin is determined that you come.”

“I… see.” 

“Ah! I had almost forgotten.” Genji unearthed the tablet from where it was at the bottom of Hanzo’s folded clothing. “Hana loaded this with some movies that you can watch. She was concerned that you would find recovery dull.” 

Hanzo shook his head at the not so subtle message. Mei, Yin and now Hana all wanted him to know that they were concerned and cared. Shame pooled in his belly as he remembered how he had spent the last few days in self-isolation, his flask his only company. 

“Tell Hana that I appreciate her effort.”

“You may tell her yourself. She’s coming with Yin to send you off.” Genji laughed. “I think she has a crush on Falcon Yin.”

Hanzo managed a soft laugh in turn. “Ah.” He lifted his spoon again, for a taste of Mei’s congee, when his phone rang. Genji picked it up to look at the display. 

“It says ‘Christian’.”

“Please.” Hanzo gestured for the device, pushing his dinner tray away so he could sit up a little more. “Christian-san is Adrian’s uncle.” He answered the call, not noticing that Genji immediately went quiet at the mention of Adrian. “Is something wrong?”

He was answered with a sigh of relief. “Hanzo-san. It is good to hear a sane voice. Everything is wrong.” Hanzo was about to climb out of his cot when Genji pressed him back. 

“What do you meant ‘everything is wrong’?”

“I don’t mean to alarm you, Hanzo, and in truth there is little you can do.” The man on the other side of the line sighed. “We were making a foray into Richard St. James penthouse. It has changed greatly since my sister lived here last. She’s quite annoyed that he redecorated so extremely.” Christian paused again. “But that is neither here nor there. It’s a good thing that we came in force. I’m here with Donovan, Dia, Kieran and Adrian. I’m really the only one sane right now. St. James dedicated a great deal to the defences.”

Hanzo felt his mouth go dry. “How is your family?”

“They’ll be fine, I can see their defences slowly kicking in. It’s Adrian who is concerning me. I mean, Dia is hosting an invisible cocktail party, Kieran has turned to glass and Donovan is blinking back into existence but Adrian… Hanzo-san, do you know a Genji?”

“Yes, indeed I do.” He eyed his brother.

“I mean, I do know it’s your late brother’s name, but Adrian’s actions are causing me to worry. He’s currently hanging from the neck of a marble statue like it’s his best friend and he’s wondering why Genji hasn’t called him yet. Tell me, Hanzo-san, is he hallucinating? About a person called Genji, I meant.”

Hanzo pinned Genji with a look. If an expressionless visor could look embarrassed, Genji was doing it.

“No, Adrian is not hallucinating. Genji is my brother and he is very much alive.”

“Oh good. That’s a relief. I was worried the magic affected his mind like it’s affecting my sister’s.”

“And you, Christian-san, how is the magic affecting you?”

“Oh, it’s not. I’m the least magic of my family. I’m laden with all the wards and talismans we could dig up. I’m currently standing very still and not touching anything. I believe we’ll make a strategic retreat as soon as they’ve recovered.”

“Yes, very wise.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Christian Everard hung up.

There was silence between the brothers as Hanzo lowered his phone.

“Well! I will go and pack your bag now!” Genji leapt to his feet.

“Brother.” That one word stopped Genji in hasty retreat. “At least tell him that you are not interested.”

Genji deflated slightly before shrugging. “That… remains to be seen, anija.” Then he left, leaving Hanzo to frown at the door that closed behind him.

  
  


**2070, December**

Richard stood on the balcony and raised his glass clink against his father’s. He looked out over the city, New York City, as St. James the senior took a sip.

“She does not change much, does she, Father?” 

St. James snorted. “The whore does not change her spots, son.”

Richard tsked softly at the chosen words. “I meant, sir, that she’s as beautiful with snow on her shoulders than when she’s bare to the summer’s glory.”

“Hah! Such language from you, Richie. Has your setback improved your maturity? Can we expect to see a change in your tastes?”

“Perhaps, sir.” Richard’s tone was neutral as he lifted the glass to his lips as his father took another long sip. He moved to a corner of the balcony where he could view the dark water of the Central Park Reservoir. 

St. James made a pleased sound. 

“I must say, sir, that it is truly good to be back. Boston lacks a little  _ je ne sais quoi _ .”

“I will tell you what Boston lacks. Style, grandeur, and any sort of ambition. Boston is mired in the past, son. I sent you there that you might appreciate this city.”

“Oh I have no doubt, sir.” Richard lifted the glass ot his lips again. “You have no idea how much I chafed at the exile. Am I not the Young Gentleman? Is New York not my prize? You exiled me, sir. You caused me a great injury. How is the wine?”

St. James the elder had sunk gently onto the cold tiled floor of the balcony, his wine glass dropped and shattered into a million glittering shards. He clutched at his swelling throat, clawing at the knot of his impeccable tie. 

“Don’t fight it, sir.” Richard flung the contents of his untouched glass over the side of the rail. It arched and caught the reflection of the lights of the city before descending as a spray. “It should not cause you all that much pain. I am very conscious that you are still my father, after all.” He then let the glass fall from his hand, letting it tumble towards to the ground until he lost sight of it. 

Richard smiled down at the gasping figure of his father. 

“I’ve learned a great deal in my exile, Father. I’ve learned that if I want something, I cannot just wait for it to come to me. I have learned that I must grasp what I want in life. I learned this too slowly and lost someone very close to me.” Richard looked up at the night sky. “I wonder what would have happened if I had killed Hanzo first. Perhaps nothing would change, but then, what fantasies are our dreams made of, hmm?”

He gently prodded St. James’ side with the polished toe of his shoe. The older man was making small pained noises as his air reserves were slowly used up, his reddened face turning slowly blue.

“I wish I could say that I was sorry, father.” Richard crouched down, his head tilted to the side. “In truth, I am not. You truly are a a base beast, sir. There would be many who would celebrate your demise… if they knew, of course.” He smiled gently at the eyes bulging with incredulity and perhaps asphyxiation and not a little hate.

“No one will know, sir. You will fade into obscurity, you won’t have a funeral solemn and grand. You won’t have greedy family members at your will hearing, each weeping false tears over your passing while hoping for a crumb of your wealth. I love you, sir. You are my father, this is natural. But I also hate you. You have no idea what depths my loathsomeness for you goes. I am a fine weapon thanks to you, but I am also a broken blade.” Richard continued to smile. 

“Die well, father. It’s not as if you have a choice.” He stood, stepped over the still struggling body of Richard St. James, Sr. and left him to perish alone in the cold. 

***

Later, he had cause to be thankful for his father’s investment of a private elevator. It didn’t have cameras and led all the way to the garage. Richard was a strong young man despite his narrow build, but the carpet wrapped bundle that was his father was still called for some effort. Still, it was easy enough to load his car with the thickly rolled carpet without being detected, and easy still to drive through the city and down to the Hudson. Richard saluted the weighted bag he’d stuffed the body in and drove back to his city, confidant that he’d seen the last of the Monster of New York. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another month, another update, and more more chapter closer to the end! Sooooonnnn.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is still reading this little labour of love! Thank you to my ever suffering beta, Evanelric! And thank you to everyone who comments or leaves kudos. They really help :)


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